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FAST  AS  THE  WIND 


FAST 
AS  THE  WIND 

A  NOVEL 
By   NAT  GOULD 

AUTHOR  OF 
"The  Rider  in  Khaki,"     Etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 

Published  by  arrangement  with   Frederick   A.   Stokes   Company 


Copyright,  1918,  by 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company 


All  rights  reserved 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I 


I.  The  Boom  of  a  Gun 
II.  Story  of  an  Escape 

III.  The  Man  on  the  Road 

IV.  The  Woman  at  the  Table 
V.  Picton's  Winning  Mounts 

VI.  In  Brack's  Cottage 
VII.  A  Critical  Moment 
VIII.  On  Board  the  "Sea-mew 
IX.  Lenise  Elroy 
X.  Haverton 
XI.  Tearaway  and  Others 
XII.   "I  Think  He's  Dead" 

XIII.  A  Woman's  Fear     . 

XIV.  Not  Recognised 
XV.   "The  St.  Leger's  in  Your  Pocket" 

XVI.  How   Hector   Fought   the   Blood- 
hound   140 

XVII.  An  Introduction  at  Hurst  Park     .     149 

XVIII.  Conscience  Troubles 158 

XIX.   "What  Would  You  Do?"       ...     165 
XX.  Rita  Sees  a  Resemblance      .     .     .     174 
XXI.  Brack  Turns  Traveler    .     .     .     .     182 
v 


10 

20 

30 
40 

50 
59 
69 

79 
88 

97 
106 

115 
124 
132 


169439G 


VI 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

PAGE 

XXII. 

DONCASTER 

IQI 
200 

XXIII. 

The  Crowd  in  the  Ring    . 

XXIV. 

"By  Jove,  She's  Wonderful" 

208 

XXV. 

Fast  as  the  Wind 

2l6 

XXVI. 

The  Struggle  for  the  Cup    . 

224 

XXVII. 

The  Reserved  Compartment 

233 

XXVIII. 

How  Hector  Had  His  Revenge 

241 

XXIX. 

An  Astonishing  Communication 

-        25O 

XXX. 

Teara way's  Progeny  .     .     . 

E 

.        258 

FAST  AS  THE   WIND 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  BOOM  OF  A  GUN 


A  SMALL  but  splendidly  built  yacht  steamed 
slowly  into  Torbay,  passed  Brixham  and 
Paignton,  and  came  to  anchor  in  the  outer  harbor 
at  Torquay.  It  was  a  glorious  spring  morning, 
early,  and  the  sun  shone  on  the  water  with  a  myriad 
of  dancing  reflections;  it  bathed  in  light  the  beau- 
tiful town,  the  scores  of  villas  nestling  on  the 
heights  surrounding  it,  the  palms  on  the  terrace 
walk,  on  the  mass  of  greenery  clothing  foot  to  sum- 
mit, on  the  inner  harbor,  and  on  the  rocky  coast 
stretching  out  towards  Anstey's  Cove  and  Babba- 
combe  Beach.  It  was  a  magnificent  sight,  the  arts 
of  man  and  nature  mingled  together,  for  once  har- 
monizing, for  Torquay  has  not  been  spoilt  by  build- 
ers, at  least  as  seen  from  the  bay.  Behind,  Brix- 
ham way,  the  red  sails  of  the  fishing  boats  flapped 
lazily  in  an  idle  breeze.     Four  men-of-war  lay  still 

i 


2  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

in  the  bay,  guardians  of  the  peace,  comforting,  re- 
assuring, a  hint  of  what  lay  behind.  How  peace- 
ful these  monsters  of  the  deep  looked.  Slumbering 
surely  were  they.  What  was  that?  A  puff  of 
white  smoke,  then  a  solemn  sound,  which  sped  across 
the  bay,  and  echoed  over  the  hills.  One  of  the  mon- 
sters had  spoken,  just  to  show  it  was  wide  awake. 

It  had  a  curious  effect  on  the  man  leaning  over 
the  side  of  the  Sea-mew,  the  yacht  that  had  just 
come  to  anchor.  It  startled  him  from  his  reverie, 
from  his  contemplation  of  all  that  was  so  beautiful 
around  him. 

For  a  moment  he  looked  across  at  the  warships, 
and  saw  the  smoke  drifting  away,  then  he  turned 
and  looked  over  the  town  and  its  heights,  and  his 
thoughts  went  far  and  landed  on  Dartmoor. 

Another  gun  boomed  out.  This  time  it  seemed 
more  natural.  Again  the  echo  ran  over  the  hills, 
and  again  he  turned  and  looked  towards  that  vast 
moor  which  lay  behind. 

"Supposing  it  were  true,"  he  muttered.  "Would 
to  God  it  were,  and  that  he  were  safe  on  board  my 
yacht.    All  for  a  woman,  and  such  a  woman!" 

He  clenched  his  fist  and  struck  the  rail. 

Picton  Woodridge,  owner  of  the  Sea-mew,  was  a 
man  of  about  thirty,  tall,  good  looking,  genial,  pop- 
ular, but  lonely,  if  a  popular  man  can  be  described 
as  lonely,  and  there  are  such  men.     He  was  rich,  a 


THE  BOOM  OF  A  GUN  3 

sportsman.  His  stable  at  Haverton  contained  good 
horses:  a  Derby  winner  in  prospect,  one  of  the  best 
stayers  in  England,  and  above  all  Tearaway,  a  black 
filly,  three  years  old,  described  by  her  trainer,  Brant 
Blackett,  as  "a  beauty,  a  real  gem,  and  fast  as  the 
wind." 

He  ought  to  have  been  a  happy  man.  To  all  out- 
ward appearances  he  was,  but  behind  a  smiling  face 
there  is  sometimes  a  heavy  heart.  It  was  not  ex- 
actly so  in  his  case,  yet  there  was  something  of  it. 
There  was  one  black  shadow  cast  over  his  gilded 
path,  and  the  echo  of  the  gun  from  the  man-of-war 
had  deepened  it. 

"Why  the  deuce  did  I  come  here?"  he  muttered. 
"Why  did  I  promise  Dick  I'd  ride  for  him  at  Tor- 
quay races?" 

He  sighed;  he  knew  why  he  had  promised  Dick 
Langford  to  ride  for  him;  he  would  do  a  good 
deal  more  than  this  for  Dick,  for  the  sake  of  his 
sister  Rita.  He  had  no  other  companion  on  the 
yacht  than  Ben  Bruce,  captain  of  the  Sea-mew, 
who  stood  towards  him  in  the  light  of  his  best 
friend. 

Ben  Bruce  was  a  character  in  his  way.  He  had 
been  in  the  Navy,  on  the  same  ship  with  Picton's 
father,  and  Admiral  Woodridge  and  the  young 
officer  had  esteem  and  affection  for  each  other. 
Lieutenant  Bruce  often  came  to  Haverton  in  the 


4  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Admiral's  time  and  was  always  a  welcome  guest. 
He  had  known  Picton  from  a  boy,  and  shared 
the  Admiral's  fondness  for  the  somewhat  lonely 
child,  whose  mother  died  at  his  birth,  and  whose 
elder  brother  was  generally  away  from  home, 
training  for  the  Army.  Bruce  remembered  the 
elder  boy,  Hector,  but  had  not  seen  so  much  of 
him,  or  become  so  attached  to  him  as  to  Picton. 
Hector  was  of  a  different  disposition,  hasty,  head- 
strong, willful,  and  yet  the  brothers  were  much 
attached,  and  when  at  home  together,  were  seldom 
apart.  There  were  ten  years  between  them ;  con- 
sequently Hector  regarded  himself  in  the  light  of 
a  protector  to  Picton. 

The  Admiral  loved  them  and  endeavored  to  treat 
them  equally  in  his  affection,  but  it  was  not  diffi- 
cult to  see  the  younger  had  the  stronger  hold  over 
him.  Hector  saw  it  and  smiled.  He  was  not 
at  all  jealous;  he  felt  if  it  came  to  choosing,  and 
one  of  them  had  to  be  relied  upon,  his  father 
would  select  him.  And  such  would  probably  have 
been  the  case  had  occasion  occurred,  but  it  did 
not,  and  everything  went  on  the  even  tenor  of 
its  way  until  the  fatal  day  when  a  terrible  thing 
happened  and  Hector  became,  so  Picton  was  posi- 
tively certain,  the  victim  of  a  woman's  wiles. 
What  this  happening  was  we  shall  learn.  Suffi- 
cient to  say,  it  caused  the  Admiral  to  retire.     He 


THE  BOOM  OF  A  GUN  5 

never  got  over  the  shock,  and  died  soon  after  he 
left  the  Navy.  The  bulk  of  his  fortune  was  left 
to  Picton,  who  was  determined,  when  the  time 
came,  to  surrender  to  Hector  his  proper  share.  Cap- 
tain Ben  Bruce  left  the  service  soon  after  the 
Admiral  he  had  loved  and  served.  He  was,  so 
to  speak,  a  poor  man,  and  when  he  came  to  Haver- 
ton,  to  his  old  chief's  funeral,  Picton  begged  him 
to  stay  with  him  for  a  few  months  to  relieve  his 
loneliness.  This  he  readily  consented  to  do.  The 
months  extended,  and  Picton  would  not  let  him 
go;  he  relied  on  the  stronger  man,  who  had  carved 
his  way  upward  by  his  own  exertions.  Ben  Bruce 
protested,  all  to  no  purpose. 

"I  can't  do  without  you,"  said  Picton.  "You 
were  my  father's  friend,  he  had  every  confidence 
in  you;  you  are  one  of  the  executors,  you  are  the 
proper  man  to  remain  here  and  run  the  show." 

Ben  Bruce  laughed. 

"Run  the  show!"  he  said.  "Not  much  chance 
of  that  even  if  I  wished  it.  You've  a  good  head 
on  your  shoulders,  and  one  quite  capable  of  man- 
aging your  affairs.  If  I  stay,  mind  I  say  if,  it 
will  not  be  on  that  account." 

"It  doesn't  matter  to  me  on  what  account  you 
stay  so  long  as  you  consent  to  remain,"  said  Picton. 
"There's  so  much  to  do  here ;  I  am  short  of  a  com- 
panion— you    know     I    don't    take    to    everyone. 


6  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

There's  another  thing — although  you're  a  sailor 
you  are  fond  of  horses,  and  a  good  rider,  and  I  say, 
Ben,  I've  a  proposition  to  make." 

Again  Ben  Bruce  laughed. 

"You've  got  a  fresh  proposition  almost  every 
week,  and  it's  nearly  always  something  in  my  fa- 
vor." 

''This  will  be  to  your  liking,  as  well  as,  if  you 
think  so,  in  your  favor." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Take  charge  of  the  Haverton  horses — be  my 
manager." 

"What  about  Blackett?" 

"He'll  not  mind;  in  fact  he'll  like  it.  I  put  it 
to  him;  he  seemed  rather  enamored  of  the  pros- 
pect of  being  closely  connected  with  Captain  Bruce, 
the  friend  of  his  adored  Admiral.  There  wasn't 
a  man  living  Blackett  loved  more  than  my  father; 
I  think  it  was  the  combination  of  the  sea  and  the 
stable  appealed  to  him.  Blackett  always  had  an 
idea,  so  he  told  me,  until  he  became  acquainted  with 
the  Admiral,  that  sailors  were  duffers  where  horses 
were  concerned.  'But  I  soon  found  out  the  dif- 
ference,' he  said;  'the  Admiral  knew  pretty  near 
as  much  about  a  horse  as  I  did.  Of  course  I  taught 
him  a  thing  or  two,  but  he  was  a  good  judge,  he 
knew  the  points  of  a  horse  pretty  near  as  well  as 
he  did  the  parts  of  a  battleship.'    That's  Blackett's 


THE  BOOM  OF  A  GUN  7 

opinion,  and  he  has  an  idea  Captain  Bruce  has 
leanings  in  the  same  direction  as  the  Admiral,  so 
you  can't  raise  any  objections  on  that  score." 

It  did  not  take  much  persuasion  to  induce  Cap- 
tain Bruce  to  consent,  and  he  became  manager  of 
Haverton  Stables  and,  as  a  natural  consequence, 
remained  with  Picton  Woodridge. 

At  the  same  time  Picton  said  to  him,  with  a 
serious  face:  "There's  something  else,  far  more 
important  than  anything  I  have  mentioned.  You've 
to  help  me  to  clear  Hector;  you  believe  him  inno- 
cent, don't  you,  Ben,  you  can't  do  otherwise?" 

Ben  Bruce  was  silent  for  a  moment — Picton 
watched  him  anxiously — then  said,  "Yes,  I  am  sure 
he  is  innocent.  He  couldn't  have  done  that,  not 
to  secure  any  woman  for  himself;  but  it's  a  mys- 
tery, Picton,  a  grave  mystery,  and  it  will  take  a  far 
cleverer  man  than  myself  to  unravel  it.  I'll  help 
you,  I'll  stick  at  nothing  to  help  you  and  Hector." 

"Thanks,  old  friend,  thanks  a  thousand  times. 
With  your  help  there  is  no  telling  what  may  be 
accomplished.  There  must  be  some  way  out  of  it; 
such  a  terrible  injustice  cannot  be  allowed  to  go 
on  for  ever,"  said  Picton. 

And  so  Captain  Ben,  as  he  was  called,  became 
the  constant  friend  and  companion  of  Picton  Wood- 
ridge.    When  the  Sea-mew  was  purchased  it  was 


8  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Captain  Ben  who  clinched  the  deal,  and  was  ap- 
pointed "skipper." 

"So  I'm  your  stud  manager  and  captain  of  your 
yacht,  that's  a  queer  combination,"  said  Ben. 

"And  you're  as  good  in  one  capacity  as  the 
other,"  said  Picton. 

"I  think  I'm  safer  on  deck  than  on  a  horse," 
said  Ben. 

It  was  Captain  Ben  Bruce  who  came  quietly 
along  the  deck  of  the  Sea-mew  and  looked  at 
Picton  Woodridge  as  he  gazed  over  Torquay  bay. 
A  kindly  look  was  in  his  eyes,  which  were  always 
bright  and  merry,  for  he  was  a  cheerful  man,  not 
given  to  look  on  the  dark  side  of  things.  His  affec- 
tion for  Picton  was  that  of  a  father  for  a  son,  in 
addition  to  being  a  companion  and  a  friend.  He 
noticed  the  sad  far-away  look  on  Picton's  face, 
and  wondered  what  it  was  that  caused  the  shadow 
on  this  beautiful  April  morning. 

"I'll  leave  him  to  his  meditations,"  he  thought; 
"he'll  be  down  for  breakfast,  and  I'll  ask  him  then." 

He  was  about  to  turn  away  when  Picton  looked 
round  and  said  with  a  smile:  "Something  told  me 
you   were   there." 

"Telepathy,"  said  Ben. 

"Sympathy,"  said  Picton.  "Do  you  know  what 
I  was  thinking  about?" 


THE  BOOM  OF  A  GUN  9 

"No;  I  saw  you  were  pensive.  I'd  have  asked 
you     at     breakfast,     you     looked     so     serious." 

"I  was  serious." 

"What  caused  the  passing  cloud  on  such  a  glori- 
ous morning?"  asked  Ben. 

Picton  took  him  by  the  arm,  his  grip  tightened ; 
with  the  other  hand  he  pointed  to  the  battleship. 

"The  boom  of  a  gun,"  he  said;  and  Ben  Bruce 
understood. 


CHAPTER  II 


STORY    OF    AN    ESCAPE 


ROW  me  to  the  Sea-mew"  said  Dick  Lang- 
ford,  and  old  Brackish  touched  his  cap 
and  replied,  "Yes,  sir;  she's  a  beauty,  she  is.  Hear 
the  news,  sir?" 

"No;  anything  startling?" 

"Nothin'  out  o'  the  common,  at  least  not  in 
these  parts,   but  it's  summat  different   to   most." 

"You're  always  long-winded,  Brackish — York- 
shireman,  I  suppose,"  said  Dick  impatiently. 

Brackish  was  a  Yorkshire  boatman,  hailing  from 
Scarborough;  he  came  to  Torquay  because  his 
mother,  nearly  ninety,  could  not  stand  the  cold 
blasts  of  the  North  East  coast,  and  the  old  salt  had 
a  heart.  "Brack"  had  a  rough  red  face,  eyebrows 
lapped  over  a  pair  of  blue  eyes;  his  throat  and 
chest  were  always  bared,  tanned  the  color  of 
leather;  black  hair  covered  his  chest ;  his  hands  were 
hard,  a  deeper  brown  than  his  chest,  the  hands  of 
a  son  of  toil,  and  a  boatman.  Brack  had  been 
popular  at   Scarborough;   he  was  well  known  in 

IO 


STORY  OF  AN  ESCAPE  1 1 

Torbay  as  a  brave  hardy  seaman,  whom  no  weath- 
er daunted.  At  first  he  had  joined  the  Brixham 
fishing  fleet,  but  soon  tired  of  it,  and  when  he  saved 
enough  money  he  bought  a  couple  of  boats,  and 
made  a  decent  living  in  Torquay  harbor. 

Brack  was  fond  of  gossip,  and  on  this  particu- 
lar morning  he  was  eager  for  a  talk ;  it  was  his 
intention  -to  have  it  out  with  Dick  before  he  put 
foot  in  the  boat,  so  he  stood  looking  at  the  young 
man,  barring  his  entrance  to  the  craft  he  was  eager 
to  put  his  foot  in.  The  old  boatman  was  a  sturdy 
figure  in  his  rough  seaman's  clothes  as  he  eyed 
Dick  Langford,  and,  although  impatient,  Dick  could 
not  help  smiling  at  him.  He  liked  Brack,  and  the 
sailor  returned  the  feeling. 

"Let  me  get  in  and  you  can  tell  me  about  the 
news  as  we  row  to  the  yacht,"  said  Dick. 

"All  right,  sir;  no  hurry,  you're  here  early.  It's 
Mr.  Woodridge's  yacht,  ain't  it?" 

"Of  course  it  is;  you  know  the  Sea-mezv  as  well 
as  I  do." 

"Nice  gentleman,  Mr.  Woodridge,"  said  Brack. 

"If  you  don't  let  me  get  into  the  boat  I'll  take 
another,"  said  Dick. 

Brack  grinned. 

"You'll  not  be  doin'  that,  I'm  thinking,  after  all 
I've  done  for  yer." 

"What  have  you  done?"  asked  Dick  surprised. 


12  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Brack  looked  indignant. 

"Yer  don't  recollect?  Well  I'm  blessed!  Fancy 
forgettin'  things  like  that!" 

"Out  with  it,"  said  Dick. 

"I  give  yer  the  winner  of  the  Leger  three  year 
runnin',  and  it's  forgotten.  Lor'  bless  us,  what 
memories  young  gents  has!"  growled  Brack. 

Dick  laughed  heartily  as  he  said:  "So  you  did, 
old  man.  You're  a  real  good  tipster  for  the  York- 
shire race." 

"So  I  ought'er  be.  Don't  I  hail  from  there?  I 
can  always  scent  a  Leger  winner,  smell  'em  like 
I  can  the  salt  from  the  sea,  comes  natural  some- 
how," said  Brack,  as  he  moved  away  and  allowed 
Dick  to  step  in.  He  pulled  with  long  steady  strokes 
and  was  soon  out  of  the  inner  harbor,  making  for 
the  yacht. 

"By  jove,  this  is  a  lovely  morning!"  said  Dick, 
looking  at  the  glorious  hills  he  knew  so  well. 

"Nowt  like  Yorkshire,"  growled  Brack. 

Dick  laughed  as  he  said:  "You're  a  lucky  man 
to  be  at  Torquay,  all  the  same;  much  warmer,  fine 
climate." 

"Hot  as ,"  said  Brack  with  a  grunt. 

"You  haven't  told  me  your  news,"  said  Dick. 

"It'll  keep,"  said  Brack. 

"Bet  you  a  shilling  you  let  it  out  before  you 
reach  the  Sea-mew,"  said  Dick. 


STORY  OF  AN  ESCAPE  13 

"I  don't  bet,"  said  Brack. 

"You  mean  you  dare  not  in  this  case,  or  you 
would  lose." 

"Very  like  I  should,  because  I  see  yer  burstin' 
to  hear  it,  and  I  wouldn't  like  to  disappoint  yer," 
said  Brack,  as  he  ceased  rowing  and  leaned  on 
his  oars. 

"Tired?"   said  Dick. 

"With  that  bit  of  a  pull,"  said  Brack,  disgusted ; 
"I  should  think  not!" 

"Then  what  are  you  resting  for?" 

"I  baint  restin',  I'm  easin'  my  oars." 

"Oh,  that's  it:  the  oars  are  tired,"  said  Dick. 

"No  more  tired  than  I  am,  but  when  I  gives 
'em  a  spell  for  a  few  minutes  they  seems  to  work 
better,"  said  Brack.  "What's  more,  I  talks  better 
when  I  leans  on  'em,  sort  o'  gives  me  composure, 
and  time  to  think;  I'm  a  beggar  to  think." 

Dick  was  amused;  he  wanted  to  reach  the  Sea- 
mew,  but  on  this  sunny  morning  it  was  good  to 
sit  in  the  boat  on  the  blue  smooth  water  and  listen 
to  old  Brack  for  a  few  minutes. 

"You  must  have  done  a  lot  of  thinking  in  your 
time,"  said  Dick,  falling  into  his  humor. 

"I'm  thinking  now,"  said  Brack. 

"What  about?" 

"That  poor  devil  who  escaped  from  Dartmoor 
five  days  ago." 


14  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Dick  smiled. 

"Is  that  your  news?" 

"Yes." 

"There  have  been  several  escapes  lately." 

"But  they've  all  been  caught  in  no  time;  this 
chap  ain't,  and  by  gum,  lad,  if  he  come'd  my  way 
I'd  help  him  out.  I  don't  believe  they'll  get  him; 
at  least  I  hopes  not." 

"They'll  have  him  right  enough,"  said  Dick. 
"A  convict  at  large  is  a  danger  to  all  on  the  moor." 

"This  one  ain't,"  said  Brack.  "  'Sides,  he  may 
be  innocent." 

"Innocent  men  don't  get  into  Princetown,"  said 
Dick. 

"That's  just  where  yer  wrong,"  said  Brack.  "I've 
a  brother  in  there  now,  and  he's  innocent,  I'll  swear 
it." 

Dick  maintained  a  diplomatic  silence. 

"Of  course  you'll  not  believe  it,  but  it'll  come 
out  some  day.  He  was  on  a  man-o'-warsman,  and 
they  lagged  him  for  knocking  a  petty  officer  over- 
board; the  chap  was  drowned,  but  Bill  swore  he 
never  had  a  hand  in  it,  and  I  believes  him.  At  the 
trial  it  came  out  Bill  had  a  down  on  the  man;  and 
no  wonder — he  was  a  brute,  and  a  good  riddance." 

"Do  you  know  who  knocked  him  over?" 

"No,  but  it's  my  firm  belief  Bill  does,  and  that 
he's  sufferin'  for  another,  won't  give  him  away." 


STORY  OF  AN  ESCAPE  15 

Dick  smiled. 

"You  don't  know  Bill;  I  does,"  said  Brack  em- 
phatically. 

"But  what  about  this  man  who  escaped?  Why 
do  you  think  he'll  get  away?" 

"  'Cause  he's  a  good  plucked  'un,  a  fighter,  a 
brave  man,"  said  Brack. 

"In  what  way?" 

"They  put  bloodhounds  on  his  track.  One  brute 
got  away,  they  didn't  find  him  for  three  days,  when 

they  did ,"  Brack  hesitated ;  he  wished  to  rouse 

his  listener's  attention.     He  succeeded. 

"Go  on,"  said  Dick  eagerly. 

"The  trackers  found  the  hound  dead,  and  along- 
side him  was  a  suit  of  convict  clothes — nice  well 
marked  suits,  ain't  they;  you  can't  mistake  'em," 
said  Brack. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  the  fellow  killed  the 
hound,  and  left  his  clothes  beside  it!"  exclaimed 
Dick. 

"That's  just  what  I  have  said,  mister.  Clever, 
weren't  it  ?  When  the  other  hound  found  his  mate, 
he  found  the  clothes,  and  he  lost  the  scent." 

"How?" 

"  'Cause  the  man  must  have  fled  stark  naked, 
and  the  hound  only  had  the  scent  of  his  clothes; 
must  have  been  that,  'cause  he  couldn't  follow  him. 


16  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

He'll  get  off  right  enough — you  see  if  he  don't.  I 
wish  Bill  could  do  the  same." 

"How  did  he  kill  the  hound?"  asked  Dick.  "And 
where  did  you  hear  all  this?" 

"Strangled  it.  He's  a  good  'un  he  is;  I'd  like 
to  have  seen  it.  As  for  how  I  come  to  know  by 
it,  one  of  the  men  from  the  prison  was  here.  He 
questioned  me,"  said  Brack  with  a  grin.  "Asked 
me  if  I'd  seen  a  man  like  the  one  he  gave  a  descrip- 
tion of." 

"What  did  you  say?"  asked  Dick. 

"Kept  him  talking  for  half  an  hour  or  more, 
gave  'im  heaps  of  information.  I  rilled  him  up, 
never  you  fear." 

"But  you  didn't  see  the  man?"  said  Dick. 

"Lor'  no!  Wish  I  had,  and  that  he  was  stowed 
away  somewhere.  I  told  the  fellow  I'd  seen  just 
such  a  man  as  he  described,  with  his  hands  bound 
up  in  bandages,  and  a  cloth  round  his  neck.  Said 
he'd  a  suit  of  old  sailor's  togs  on,  and  that  he 
went  out  in  a  boat  with  a  lot  of  rowdy  fellers  to 
a  'tramp'  in  the  Bay,  and  he  didn't  come  back," 
chuckled  Brack. 

"And  what  was  the  result  of  your  false  infor- 
mation?" asked  Dick. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  the  result  will  be.  It  will  put 
'em  off  the  scent ;  they'll  think  he's  gone  off  on 


STORY  OF  AN  ESCAPE  17 

the  'tramp'  to  London,  and  they'll  give  him  a  rest 
on  the  moor  for  a  bit,"  said  Brack. 

"You  think  the  man  is  still  on  the  moor?" 

"'Course;  where  else  should  he  be?" 

"Then  he's  sure  to  be  caught." 

"Wait  a  bit — a  man  who  can  tackle  a  blood- 
hound and  choke  the  life  out  of  him  is  pretty  deter- 
mined," said  Brack. 

Dick  acknowledged  as  much  and  said  the  circum- 
stances were  out  of  the  common.  He  was  inter- 
ested in  the  old  sailor's  tale.  He  did  not  know 
whether  to  admire  what  Brack  had  done  or  to  con- 
demn it ;  he  put  himself  in  his  place,  wondering  how 
he  would  have  acted  under  similar  circumstances. 

Brack  watched  him,  a  peculiar  smile  on  his  face. 

"Goin'  to  give  me  away?"  he  asked. 

Dick  laughed  as  he  answered :  "I  was  thinking 
whether  you  were  right  or  wrong." 

"Guessed  as  much.  I  was  right  to  give  such 
a  man  another  chance.  He's  no  coward,  not  he, 
and  guilty  men  are  all  cowards,"  said  Brack. 

"Who  is  the  man?" 

"Don't  know;  he  wouldn't  tell  me,  but  he  said 
he  was  a  lifer.  He  didn't  seem  very  keen  about 
his  capture." 

"You  mean  he  seemed  glad  the  man  had  es- 
caped?" said  Dick,  surprised. 

"I  guessed  as  much  from  his  face,"  said  Brack, 


18  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"and  I  reckon  there's  worse  judges  than  me  of 
human  nature — that's  what  makes  me  think  he's 
innocent — like  Bill." 

"It's  all  very  interesting,  but  pull  to  the  Sea- 
mew,"  said  Dick. 

"About  time,"  said  Brack,  as  he  started  rowing 
again.     They  were  soon  alongside  the  yacht. 

Picton  had  just  come  on  deck  again  from  the 
saloon.     He  hailed  Dick  cheerfully. 

"Well,  early  bird,  what's  brought  you  here  at 
this  time?"  he  said,  smiling. 

"Wished  to  welcome  you,  most  mighty  rider  of 
winners,"  laughed  Dick  as  he  got  out  of  the  boat 
and  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  gangway.  "Here 
you  are,  Brack,  and  thanks  for  your  story;  it  was 
thrilling." 

Brack  touched  his  cap  as  he  said :  "And  it's  true, 
and  there's  heaps  of  things  thrilling  that  ain't  true," 
and  he  pulled  away. 

"Brack  been  spinning  yarns?"  said  Picton,  who 
knew  the  old  man. 

"A  real  shocker  this  time." 

"What  about?" 

"A  fellow  escaped  from  Dartmoor  the  other  day. 
It's  worth  hearing;  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  later 
on,"  said  Dick. 

Picton  Woodridge  staggered  backwards.    At  first 


STORY  OF  AN  ESCAPE  19 

Dick  thought  he  was  about  to  fall.  He  looked  at 
him  in  astonishment. 

"What's  the  matter,  Pic?"  he  asked. 

"Curious  fit  of  faintness  came  over  me;  I'm  all 
right  now,"  said  Picton,  but  Dick  thought  he  didn't 
look  it. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  MAN  ON"  THE  ROAD 

DICK  Langford  told  Brack's  story  to  Picton 
Woodridge  and  Captain  Ben.  Both  listened 
attentively:  it  was  immensely  interesting  to  them. 
From  time  to  time  Ben  looked  at  his  friend  to  see 
how  he  took  it.  Dick,  absorbed  in  his  tale,  did 
not  notice  the  look  of  strained  attention  on  their 
faces.     They  were  silent  when  he  finished. 

"Not  bad  for  Brack,  eh?"  said  Dick. 

The  simple  question  made  them  start. 

"You  fellows  seem  all  nerves  this  morning," 
said  Dick.  "When  I  told  Pic  on  deck,  he  stag- 
gered; I  thought  he  was  going  to  faint.  You're 
not  afraid  the  fellow  will  board  the  yacht,  are  you?" 

Ben  laughed  as  he  said :  "No,  I  don't  think  we're 
afraid,  not  of  one  man,  even  if  he  be  an  escaped 
convict." 

"You'll  want  all  your  nerve  to-morrow,"  said 
Dick  to  Picton.  "There's  three  of  my  horses  to 
ride,  and  two  of  'em  are  brutes." 

"Thanks,"  said  Picton,  smiling;  "a  pleasant  pros- 
pect. Worth  coming  all  these  miles  for,  isn't  it, 
Ben?" 


THE  MAN  ON  THE  ROAD  21 

"Depends  upon  what  Langford  calls  a  brute," 
replied  Ben. 

"Pitcher's  not  so  bad ;  he's  what  I  call  a  humor- 
ous horse,  full  of  pranks  and  no  vice  about  him. 
He's  number  one.  Now  we  come  to  the  first  brute, 
Planet,  a  gelding  with  a  temper;  as  likely  as  not 
he'll  try  and  pitch  you  into  the  crowd." 

"Then  he  ought  to  have  been  named  Pitcher," 
said  Picton. 

"We  don't  all  get  our  right  names,  I  mean 
names  that  fit;  we're  saddled  with  'em  by  unthink- 
ing parents.  Sis  has  a  maid,  Evangeline  Mamie; 
now  that's  what  I  call  a  big  handicap  for  the  girl," 
said  Dick. 

They  laughed,  and  Picton  asked  him  to  pass  on 
to  number  two  brute. 

"The  Rascal,"  said  Dick;  "he's  a  terror.  He's 
lamed  a  couple  of  my  chaps,  and  Pete's  right  when 
you're  in  the  saddle,  but  it's  a  deuce  of  a  job  to 
get  there.  He  rises  on  his  hind  legs,  and  conducts 
an  imaginary  band  with  his  fore  legs,  but  he's  got 
a  rare  turn  of  speed,  and  he  ought  to  win  the  West 
of  England  Handicap  Steeplechase  to-morrow,  and 
the  Torbay  and  South  Devon  Steeplechase  the  next 
day." 

"Then  you  expect  to  bring  off  the  double  with 
him?"  said  Picton. 


22  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Yes,  and  if  you  do  not,  Sis  says  she'll  never 
speak  to  you  again." 

"Then  I'll  do  it  if  I  die  in  the  attempt,"  said 
Picton. 

"Don't  be  heroic,  no  one  wants  you  to  die.  You 
can  kill  The  Rascal  if  you  like,  but  promise  me 
to  come  off  unscathed,"  said  Dick,  laughing. 

"I'll  try,"  said  Picton. 

"Pitcher  ought  to  win  the  Maiden  Hurdle  Race, 
and  Planet  the  St.  Marychurch  Hurdle  Race.  Now 
you  have  a  nice  little  program  mapped  out  for 
you,  and  I  fancy  you'll  win  the  four  events.  If 
you  do,  it  will  be  a  day  for  rejoicing  at  Torwood, 
and  the  wearer  of  the  pink  jacket  will  be  an  hon- 
ored guest  if  he  cares  to  desert  the  Sea-mew  for 
my  humble  abode." 

"Dick,  you're  incorrigible,"  said  Picton,  laugh- 
ing.    "You  really  expect  to  win  four  races?" 

"I  do;  Gordon  won  the  lot  at  a  meeting  not  far 
away  on  one  occasion." 

"That's  quite  possible — he's  a  good  rider." 

"So  are  you." 

"He  is,"  said  Ben;  "few  better." 

"What  are  you  doing  to-day?"   asked   Dick. 

"Nothing  in  particular;  basking  in  the  sunshine 
in  your  glorious  bay." 

"Then  you  like  Torquay?"  said  Dick. 

"Who  could  help  liking  it?    And  what  a  county 


THE  MAN  ON  THE  ROAD  23 

lies  behind  it!  I  envy  you  the  Devonshire  lanes, 
Dick." 

"Then  come  and  live  among  them.  I  can  pick 
you  an  ideal  spot,  and  it  shall  be  well  within  your 
means,   Mr.   Millionaire." 

Picton  la.ughed. 

"No  millions  here — a  few  thousands,"  he  said; 
"just  sufficient  to  keep  my  head  above  water." 

"And  the  Sea-mew  afloat,"  said  Dick. 

"I'll  manage  that,"  said  Ben. 

"Will  you  come  ashore  and  have  a  look  at 
Pitcher  and  the  two  brutes?"  said  Dick. 

"What  do  you  say,  Ben?  Shall  we?"  asked  Pic- 
ton. 

Ben  knew  he  wished  to  go — Rita  was  at  Tor- 
wood — it  was  not  the  horses  so  much,  although 
they  were  an  attraction. 

"Yes,"  said  Ben  promptly,  and  the  matter  was 
settled. 

They  went  ashore.  Dick  Langford's  dog-cart 
was  at  the  Queen's  and  thither  they  adjourned.  In 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  they  were  going  at  an  easy 
pace  to  Torwood,  which  lay  about  midway  between 
Torquay  and  Newton  Abbot. 

How  fresh  everything  looked!  The  trees  were 
just  budding,  tingeing  the  almost  bare  branches  with 
tips  of  green.  The  air  was  cool  and  soft;  there 
were  no  motors  about — only  an  odd  one  or  two, 


24  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

the  tourist  season  had  not  commenced — but  there 
would  be  plenty  of  people  at  the  races  on  the  fol- 
lowing days. 

"Wonder  what  that  fellow's  up  to!"  exclaimed 
Dick,  as  he  saw  a  man  push  through  the  hedge  and 
disappear  down  the  hill  and  across  the  meadow. 

"Probably  belongs  to  the  place,"  said  Picton. 

"Then  what  the  deuce  did  he  get  through  the 
hedge  for?  Why  didn't  he  go  to  the  gate?"  said 
Dick. 

"Short  cut,  perhaps,"  said  Picton. 

"Wonder  if  he's  that  chap  from  Dartmoor?" 
laughed  Dick,  and  he  felt  Picton  start. 

"The  man's  got  on  your  nerves,"  he  said.  "I'll 
say  no  more  about  him." 

Picton  was  looking  at  him  as  he  went  rapidly 
across  the  meadow;  something  about  the  figure  ap- 
peared familiar,  so  did  the  long  stride;  he  won- 
dered if  Ben  noticed  it,  but  the  Captain  was  other- 
wise occupied.  The  incident  was  forgotten,  and 
when  they  came  in  sight  of  Torwood  Picton  became 
animated.  He  saw  a  figure  on  the  lawn,  and  knew 
who  it  was.  She  recognized  them  and  waved  her 
handkerchief.     This  met  with  a  quick  response. 

Torwood  was  a  typical  Devonshire  home,  not 
large,  but  a  commodious,  comfortable,  well-ap- 
pointed house,  standing  on  the  hillside;  trees  at 
the  back,  a  terrace,  then  a  level  stretch  of  lawn, 


THE  MAN  ON  THE  ROAD  2jT 

then  a  sweep  down  to  the  road;  a  small  lodge  and 
gate  at  the  drive  entrance;  a  steep  incline  to  the 
house.  On  the  right  were  the  stables,  half  a  dozen 
loose  boxes,  and  a  three-stall  building.  Dick  Lang- 
ford  was  far  from  being  a  rich  man,  but  he  was 
happy  and  contented,  with  his  sister.  He  was  a 
partner  in  a  firm  of  auctioneers  at  Newton  Abbot, 
and  was  accounted  a  ready  salesman;  there  was 
always  laughter  in  front  when  he  wielded  the  ham- 
mer; quick  at  repartee,  there  were  many  people 
prompt  to  draw  him  out,  but  he  got  his  prices,  and 
that  paid  the  firm  and  the  customers. 

Rita  Langford  was  like  her  brother,  of  a  bright 
and  cheerful  disposition,  was  popular  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  Torwood  was  a  favorite  house. 

"So  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Woodridge,  and  you 
too,  Captain  Bruce.  When  did  you  arrive  in  the 
bay?" 

"In  the  morning,  yesterday;  it  was  beautiful. 
How  grand  the  country  looks,  and  Torwood  even 
prettier  than  ever!"  said  Picton. 

"I  induced  him  to  leave  his  floating  palace,  and 
visit  our  humble  abode,  by  asking  him  to  inspect 
the  horses  he  is  to  ride,"  said  Dick  with  a  wink 
at  Ben. 

"That  is  so,  but  there  was  a  far  greater  induce- 
ment," said  Picton,  looking  at  Rita. 


26  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Must  I  take  that  to  mean  me?"  she  said,  laugh- 
ing. 

"Please,"  said  Picton,  thinking  how  charming 
she  was. 

They  had  a  quiet  luncheon,  then  went  to  the 
stables.  Dick  engaged  no  regular  trainer,  but  he 
had  a  man  named  Arnold  Brent,  who  was  a  first- 
rate  hand  with  horses,  and  at  the  same  time  an 
expert  gardener ;  the  combination  was  fortunate  for 
the  owner  of  Torwood.  The  horses  were  trained 
in  the  neighborhood,  where  Dick  had  the  privilege 
of  using  some  good  galloping  land,  with  natural 
fences — an  up  and  down  country,  but  excellent 
for  the  purpose.  He  had  two  lads  who  rode  most 
of  the  work;  sometimes  he  had  a  mount,  and  occa- 
sionally Brent.  Altogether  they  did  very  well, 
and  the  Torwood  horses  generally  secured  a  win 
or  two  at  the  local  meetings.  Dick  Langford's 
favorite  battle-grounds  were  Torquay  and  Newton 
Abbot.  At  the  show  at  the  latter  place  he  often 
took  prizes  for  dogs,  poultry  and  garden  produce; 
the  money  generally  went  into  Brent's  pocket. 
Brent  knew  both  Picton  and  the  Captain,  and  ad- 
mired the  former  because  he  knew  he  was  a  first- 
class  gentleman  rider,  although  he  had  not  seen 
him  in  the  saddle.  It  was  Brent  who  suggested 
to  his  master  that  Mr.  Woodridge  should  ride  at 
the  local  meeting  for  them. 


THE  MAN  ON  THE  ROAD  27 

"Not  a  big  enough  thing  for  him,"  said  Dick 
doubtfully.  "He  rides  at  some  of  the  swell  meet- 
ings." 

"You  try  him,  sir,"  said  Brent,  adding,  as  he 
caught  sight  of  Rita,  "I'll  bet  he  accepts." 

"I  hear  a  terrible  account  of  these  horses  I  am 
to  ride,"  said  Picton,  smiling. 

Brent  smiled. 

"I  expect  Mr.  Langford's  been  pulling  your  leg, 
sir,"  he  said. 

"Isn't  The  Rascal  a  brute,  isn't  Plant  another; 
and  Pitcher  was  described  as  harmless,  I  think?" 
said  Picton. 

"The  Rascal's  all  right  if  you  humor  him,"  said 
Brent.  "He's  bitten  a  lad,  and  crushed  another 
against  the  wall,  but  he's  not  half  a  bad  sort,  and 
he'll  win  the  double  easily  enough  in  your  hands, 
sir." 

"If  I  can  mount  him,"  laughed  Picton. 

"I'll  see  to  that;  he'll  stand  steady  enough  with 
me  at  his  head.  That's  him — the  chestnut  with 
the  white  face." 

Picton  looked  the  horse  over. 

"Bring  him  out,"  he  said,  and  The  Rascal  was 
led  out  of  his  box.  As  Picton  went  up  to  him 
he  laid  back  his  ears,  and  showed  the  whites  of 
his  eyes ;  it  was  a  false  alarm,  he  let  him  pat  his 
neck  and  pass  his  hand  over  him. 


28  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"I  like  him,"  said  Picton;  "he  looks  a  good 
sort." 

"He  is,  sir,"  said  Brent. 

"Your  favorite?'  laughed  Picton. 

"Yes,  sir." 

Planet  and  Pitcher  were  both  browns,  handy 
sorts,  and  Picton  thought  it  highly  probable  the 
three  would  win  the  races  selected  for  them.  He 
expressed  this  opinion,  at  which  Dick  and  his  sis- 
ter were  delighted. 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come  and  ride  ifof 
my  brother,"  she  said  to  him. 

"It  is  always  a  pleasure  to  me  to  do  anything 
to  please  you  and  Dick,"  he  replied. 

They  chatted  for  some  time ;  then  she  said :  "I 
had  an  adventure  not  long  before  you  arrived." 

"Your  country  has  always  been  full  of  adven- 
tures," he  said,  smiling. 

"And  adventurers,  but  the  man  who  came  here 
to-day  was  not  an  adventurer,  poor  fellow,"  she 
said. 

He  looked  at  her  quickly  and  she  went  on. 

"I  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  near  that 
thick-set  hedge,  when  I  heard  some  one  groan.  It 
startled  me;  some  tramp,  I  thought,  and  went  to 
the  gate.  I  saw  a  man  sitting  by  the  roadside.  He 
looked  up  when  he  saw  me,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
the  suffering  in  his  face,  the  hunted  look  in  it.     I 


THE  MAN  ON  THE  ROAD         29 

shivered,  but  I  was  quite  sure  he  was  harmless.  I 
beckoned  him;  he  came,  turning  his  head  from 
time  to  time  in  a  frightened  manner.  He  said  he 
had  tramped  many  miles,  that  he  was  hungry, 
footsore,  weary  to  death.  I  took  him  to  the  back 
of  the  house,  gave  him  something  to  eat,  and  of- 
fered him  money.  He  refused  the  money  at  first, 
but  I  insisted  and  he  took  it.  I  gave  him  one  of 
Dick's  old  top  coats ;  when  he  put  it  on  he  seemed 
a  different  man.  I  hunted  out  a  pair  of  old  boots 
— he  was  very  grateful  for  them.  I  am  sure  he 
was  a  gentleman;  he  spoke  like  one,  he  expressed 
himself  as  such  when  he  left,  there  was  a  natural 
pride  about  him.  He  walked  in  the  direction  of 
Torquay;  I  wonder  if  you  met  him  on  the  road." 

Picton  Woodridge  greatly  astonished  her  by 
asking  her  the  following  questions: 

"Have  you  told  your  brother  about  this?" 

"No." 

"Did  any  one  see  him?" 

"I  don't  think  so.  I  am  almost  sure  they  did 
not." 

"Will  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

"Willingly." 

"Then  do  not  mention  this  to  a  soul,"  said  Pic- 
ton earnestly. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  WOMAN   AT  THE  TABLE 

SHE  promised  readily,  not  asking  questions,  for 
which  he  was  grateful.  She  knew  there  was 
something  she  could  not  penetrate,  some  mystery; 
her  curiosity  was  aroused  but  she  restrained  it. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "I  have  good  reasons  for 
asking  you  to  remain  silent;  some  day  I  will  tell 
you  them,  whether  my  conjectures  prove  right  or 
wrong." 

"I  shall  not  ask  your  confidence,"  she  said. 

"I  will  give  it  to  you.  I  would  give  it  to  you 
now  if  I  thought  it  would  be  of  any  use." 

"I  am  sure  you  would." 

"Rita " 

"Hallo,  where  are  you,  Picton?"  shouted  Dick. 

"Here!"  he  called.    "On  the  seat  near  the  hedge." 

"Oh,  down  there.     Is  Rita  with  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Sorry  I  shouted;  hope  I  didn't  disturb  you," 
sang  out  Dick. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Picton;  "we  were  just 
coming  up." 

30 


THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  TABLE      31 

"I  wonder  what  he  was  going  to  tell  me  when 
he  said  'Rita,'  "  she  thought  as  they  walked  up  the 
hilly  garden  path. 

Picton  said  he  would  rather  return  to  the  yacht 
for  the  night;  he  loved  being  on  the  water,  it  al- 
ways had  a  soothing  effect  and  he  was  not  a  good 
sleeper. 

"I  must  be  in  tip-top  condition  for  to-morrow 
— so  much  depends  upon  it,"  he  said,  smiling. 

Rita  thought  a  good  deal  about  her  conversation 
with  him  when  he  left,  tried  to  puzzle  out  the  mys- 
tery, but  failed. 

"I'll  wait  until  he  tells  me,"  she  said.  "I  wish 
Dick  hadn't  shouted  when  he  said  'Rita';  it  inter- 
rupted a  pleasant  sentence.  I  wonder  how  it  would 
have  finished?"  and  she  smiled  quietly  to  herself. 

Dick  drove  them  to  Torquay,  then  returned  home. 
Brack  rowed  them  out  to  the  Sea-mew.  He  was 
loquacious  as  usual. 

"Nice  night,  gents,"  he  said. 

"Beautiful,  Brack.  Isn't  it  rather  dark  though?" 
said  Ben. 

Picton  seemed  moody. 

"Yes,  there's  no  moon  to  speak  of;  it's  darker 
than  I've  known  it  at  this  time  o'  year." 

The  old  fellow  chatted  until  they  came  alongside. 


32  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Picton  paid  him  and  said  good-night.  Brack 
thanked  him  and  said :  "Goin'  to  ride  any  winners 
to-morrow,  sir?" 

This  roused  him  and  he  told  Brack  the  names  of 
the  horses  and  the  races  they  were  going  for. 

"You  back  The  Rascal  for  the  double  if  you  can 
find  any  one  to  lay  it  to  you,"  said  Picton. 

"We've  a  bookie  among  us,"  said  Brack.  "He's 
a  young  'un  and  as  good  a  sailor  as  the  best  of 
us,  but  he's  artful,  very  artful,  and  he's  had  many 
a  bob  out'er  me,  and  the  rest.  I'd  like  to  take  him 
down,  and  I  will.  The  Rascal  for  the  double,  you 
said?" 

"Yes,  and  here's  half  a  sovereign  to  put  on  him," 
said  Picton. 

Brack  gave  an  audible  chuckle  as  he  said : 
"Lor'  love  us,  that'll  just  about  bust  him  if  it 
comes  off." 

They  laughed  as  he  rowed  away,  whistling  softly 
to  himself. 

"I'll  turn  in  early,"  said  Picton. 

"The  best  thing  you  can  do,"  said  the  Captain. 
"You  seem  a  bit  out  of  sorts  to-day." 

"I  am;  I  can't  get  the  sound  of  the  gun  out  of 
my  ears." 

Ben  looked  at  him  sympathetically. 

"I  knew  what  you  meant,  felt  what  you  felt,  when 
you  spoke  about  it,"  he  said. 


THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  TABLE      33 

"Strange  some  one  should  have  escaped  from 
Dartmoor  a  day  or  two  before,"  said  Picton. 

"Escapes  are  often  occurring,"  said  Ben. 

"What  did  you  think  about  that  man  on  the 
road,  who  pushed  through  the  hedge  to  avoid  us?" 
asked  Picton. 

"Didn't  give  it  more  than  a  passing  thought," 
said  Ben. 

"What  was  the  passing  thought?" 

"I  said  to  myself,  'I  wonder  if  that's  the  man 
who  escaped?'  " 

"Good-night,"  said  Picton;  "I'll  turn  in." 

"Good-night,"  said  Ben,  as  he  sat  on  a  deck  chair. 

"He's  in  a  curious  mood  to-night,"  he  thought. 
"I'm  sorry  for  him.  We  ought  not  to  have  come 
here,  it  brings  up  painful  recollections,  the  vicinity 
of  Dartmoor;  and  yet  it  has  its  compensations — ■ 
there's  Miss  Langford,  lovely  girl,  and  as  nice  as 
she  looks.  I  hope  he'll  win  to-morrow,  it  will  cheer 
him  up." 

Ben's  mind  went  back  to  the  time  when  Picton 
and  Hector  were  lads  together,  and  the  Admiral 
was  alive.  His  heart  was  sore  for  Hector,  although 
he  was  half  inclined  to  believe  him  guilty,  but  tried 
to  convince  himself  to  the  contrary  by  expressing 
his  firm  belief  in  his  innocence,  in  order  to  be  of 
the  same  mind  as  Picton. 

One  thing  Captain  Ben    had    long    determined 


34  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

upon :  if  ever  he  got  a  chance,  he  would  help  Hector, 
no  matter  at  what  risk  or  cost.  He  was  a  man 
who  had  run  into  many  dangers,  not  useless  dan- 
gers, necessary  perils,  with  his  eyes  open,  knowing 
the  consequences  of  failure,  therefore  he  was  a 
brave  man.  Blindfolded,  impetuous,  blundering 
rushes  against  great  odds  excite  the  admiration  of 
the  crowd,  but  it  is  the  Captain  Bens  who  are 
to  be  relied  upon  in  times  of  emergency. 

The  air  became  cooler.  Ben  rose  from  his  chair 
and  went  to  his  cabin;  looking  into  Picton's  as 
he  passed,  he  was  glad  to  see  him  asleep. 

The  Sea-mew  swung  round  with  the  tide,  quietly, 
without  a  sound;  it  was  very  still  and  calm;  she 
looked  like  a  dull  white  bird  on  the  water.  So 
thought  a  man  who  crept  stealthily  along  the  wall 
toward  the  inner  harbor. 

"I  wish  I  were  on  her  and  out  at  sea,"  he  mut- 
tered. He  could  just  discern  her  outline,  the  white 
hull  and  the  lights. 

He  heard  footsteps,  a  measured  beat,  a  policeman, 
he  knew  by  the  tread.  He  put  his  hand  on  the  wall 
to  steady  himself,  shivered,  then  groaned.  There 
was  no  getting  out  of  it,  he  must  face  the  man,  and 
it  was  late.  He  staggered  forward  with  a  drunken 
reel,  but  not  too  unsteady  on  his  legs.  He  lurched, 
just  avoiding  the  constable,  who  merely  said :  "Now, 
my  man,  get  off  home,  and  mind  you  keep  quiet." 


THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  TABLE      35 

"All  right,  sir,  I'm  a'goin',"  was  the  reply. 

The  constable  moved  on,  blissfully  ignorant  that 
he  had  probably  missed  a  chance  of  promotion. 
The  man  walked  past  the  pier,  past  the  Torbay 
Hotel,  where  there  were  lights  in  one  of  the  rooms 
on  the  ground  floor,  evidently  a  late  supper  party, 
at  least  so  thought  the  man  outside.  Do  what 
he  would,  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  cross 
the  road  and  see  what  was  going  on.  There  was 
a  chink  in  the  blind.  At  first  he  saw  little,  his 
eyes  were  curiously  dim  and  heavy  from  lack  of 
sleep,  gradually  the  mist  in  them  lifted.  He  saw 
four  people  seated  at  a  table,  brilliantly  lighted, 
a  dainty  supper  spread.  It  was  long  since  he  had 
seen  such  things,  but  he  had  been  used  to  them. 
Naturally,  being  hungry,  he  looked  at  the  well-laden 
table ;  then  his  eyes  went  to  the  people  sitting  there, 
two  men  and  two  women.  He  saw  the  men  first, 
then  one  woman,  then  the  other  woman,  and  his 
eyes  started,  his  hands  clenched,  his  face  went  livid, 
his  teeth  met  with  a  snap;  for  a  moment  he  stood 
thus,  regarding  the  woman  with  a  fixed  stare  of 
horror.  She  was  a  beautiful  woman,  voluptuous, 
with  a  luring  face,  and  eyes  which  knew  every  lan- 
guage in  every  tongue  of  unspoken  love.  She  was 
smiling  into  the  eyes  of  the  man  at  her  side  as 
she  toyed  with  a  dainty  morsel  on  a  silver  dessert 
fork.     She  was  dressed  with  excellent  taste,  ex- 


36  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

pensively,  not  lavishly.  She  was  a  woman  who 
knew  overdressing  spells  disaster.  Her  white  teeth 
gleamed  as  she  smiled;  the  man  at  her  side  was 
lost  in  admiration — it  was  not  difficult  to  see  that. 

The  man  looking  outside  raised  his  clenched 
fists  and  said :  "Is  there  no  God,  no  justice  any- 
where ?" 

As  he  spoke  the  woman  dropped  her  fork  and 
started,  a  shiver  passed  over  her.  The  man  at  her 
side  hastily  got  up,  brought  her  a  wrap  and  placed 
it  on  her  shoulders.  The  man  outside  saw  the 
fork  fall,  he  saw  the  wrap,  and  he  muttered  again : 
"There  is  a  God,  there  is  justice;  her  conscience 
imprisons  her  as  surely  as " 

"Move  on  there!  What  are  you  lurking  about 
here  for?" 

"All  right,  goin'  'ome,  just  met  yer  brother  along 
there." 

"He's  not  my  brother,"  said  the  constable  gruffly. 

"Thought  yer  were  all  brothers,  members  of  the 
same  cloth,  anyhow  yer  all  good  sorts.  Good- 
night." 

"Be  off  home,"  said  the  constable,  as  he  went 
on  his  way;  and  a  second  man  lost  a  chance  of 
promotion  that  night. 

"I  must  not  run  any  more  risks,"  thought  the 
man,  "but  I'm  glad  I  crossed  the  road  and  looked 
in  at  that  window.    She  suffers,  she  could  not  have 


THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  TABLE      37 

heard  my  voice,  perhaps  an  internal  justice  carried 
it  to  her  and  my  words  were  whispered  in  her  ears 
— such  things  have  been  known.  There  she  sits, 
feasting,  surrounded  by  every  comfort,  but  she's 
not  happy,  she  never  will  be,  such  women  never 
are.  God,  to  think  what  I  have  gone  through  for 
her,  what  I  have  suffered!  I  have  lived  in  hell, 
in  purgatory,  and  I  ought  to  be  on  my  way  to 
heavenly  peace.  God,  give  me  a  chance;  I  am  an 
innocent  man  and  You  know  it." 

"Hallo,  mate,  where  goin'?  Yer  a  late  bird," 
said  Brack,  as  he  knocked  against  the  man  walk- 
ing in  a  curiously  wild  way  in  the  middle  of  the 
road. 

"Goin'  'ome,"  said  the  man. 

"That'll  not  get  over  me ;  yer  puttin'  it  on.  I'm 
fra  Yorkshire,  and  a  bit  too  cute  for  that." 

"What  d'yer  mean?" 

"That  I've  heard  gents  speak  in  my  time,  and 
I  reckon  you're  one." 

The  man  started ;  at  first  he  was  inclined  to  bolt ; 
then  as  the  light  of  a  lamp  shone  on  Brack's  face 
he  saw  it  was  honest,  kindly,  full  of  charity,  and 
through  it  he  knew  there  was  a  big  heart  inside  the 
rough  body. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said.  "I  was  a  gentleman, 
I  hope  I  am  one  still,  although  I  have  lived  such 
a  life  that  the  wonder  is  I  am  not  a  beast." 


38  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Brack  looked  hard  at  him;  from  his  face  his 
gaze  wandered  over  his  body,  then  he  looked  at 
his  hands;  one  was  bound  up,  the  other  had  marks 
on  it,  deep  marks,  like  the  marks  of  teeth.  Brack 
made  up  his  mind. 

"Don't  move,"  he  said,  "when  I  tell  you  some- 
thing-. I'm  a  man,  not  a  fiend,  and  I've  an  inno- 
cent brother  over  there,"  and  he  jerked  his  hand 
in  the  direction  of  the  moor  far  away.  "Maybe 
you've  seen  him." 

The  man  gasped — this  old  sailor  knew !  Should 
he — no,  the  face  was  honest,  he  would  trust  him. 

"Perhaps  I  have,"  he  said. 

"Are  you  the  man  that  throttled  that  blood- 
hound?" 

"Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Because  if  you  are  I'd  like  to  clasp  yer  hand 
and  say  I  think  yer  brave." 

The  man  held  out  his  bandaged  hand;  the  old 
sailor  took  it  in  his  big,  horny  palm  tenderly,  press- 
ing it  gently. 

"The  other  one,"  he  said. 

The  man  held  out  his  other  hand. 

"I'm  glad  I've  held  'em  both,  the  hands  that 
strangled  that  cursed  hound.  Come  along  with  me. 
I'll  see  yer  safe,  never  fear.  There's  not  a  man 
jack  of  'em  in  Torquay  or  Princetown,  or  anywhere, 


THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  TABLE      39 

would  ever  suspect  old  Brack  of  harboring  a — 
gentleman." 

Without  a  word  the  man  went  with  him.  As 
he  walked  at  the  honest  Brack's  side  he  thought : 
"My  prayer  has  been  answered." 


CHAPTER  V 
picton's  winning  mounts 

IT  was  Easter  Monday,  and  a  holiday  crowd 
gathered  on  the  slopes  of  Petitor  racecourse  at 
St.  Mary  Church.  More  than  usual  interest  was 
shown  in  the  meeting  owing  to  the  presence  of 
Picton  Woodridge,  whose  fame  as  a  gentleman 
rider  was  well-known.  Dick  Langford  was  popular 
and  the  success  of  the  pink  jacket  eagerly  antici- 
pated. 

Petitor  is  not  an  ideal  course;  it  is  on  the  slope 
of  a  hill,  and  a  queer  country  to  get  over,  but  some 
interesting  sport  is  seen  and  the  local  people  take 
a  pride  in  it;  as  a  golf  links  it  is  admirable. 

Picton  had  not  seen  the  course  before,  at  least 
only  from  the  road,  and  as  he  looked  at  it  he  smiled. 

"I  may  lose  my  way,"  he  said  to  Rita;  "go  the 
wrong  course." 

"You  will  find  it  easy  enough,  and  you  are  not 
likely  to  make  mistakes.  Look,"  and  she  pointed 
out  the  track  to  him,  and  the  various  obstacles. 

There  were  bookmakers  there — where  are  they 
not  when  races  are  on,  no  matter  how  small  the 
fields,  or  the  crowd? 

40 


PICTON'S  WINNING  MOUNTS      41 

Picton  wore  the  pink  jacket,  ready  to  ride  Pitcher 
in  the  Maiden  Hurdle  Race,  the  opening  event. 
There  were  only  three  runners,  and  yet  the  books 
accepted  six  to  four  on  Dick's  horse;  there  was 
a  strong  run  on  Frisco;  and  Fraud  was  nibbled  at. 

"Come  along,"   said  Dick;  ''time  to  mount." 

"Good  luck !"  said  Rita  with  a  smile.  "You'll  find 
Pitcher  easy  to  ride.  I've  been  on  him  several 
times." 

"He'll  find  me  rather  a  different  burden,"  said 
Picton. 

The  three  runners  came  out,  and  Picton  received 
a  hearty  welcome,  which  he  acknowledged. 

"Sits  his  horse  well,"  said  one. 

"A  good  rider,  anybody  can  see  that." 

"Here,  I'll  take  seven  to  four  and  it's  picking 
up  money!"  shouted  a  bookmaker;  and  so  thought 
the  backers  as  they  hurried  up  with  their  money, 
and  Pitcher  quickly  became  a  two  to  one  on  chance. 

The  distance  was  two  miles.  Picton  indulged 
Frisco  with  the  lead  until  half  a  mile  from  home, 
when  he  sent  Pitcher  forward,  had  a  slight  tussle 
with  Frisco,  then  forged  ahead  and  landed  the  odds 
by  ten  lengths  amidst  great  cheering. 

"Win  number  one,"  said  Dick  triumphantly; 
"when  the  meeting  is  over  they'll  bar  you  from  rid- 
ing here  again." 


42  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Rita  was  delighted,  her  face  all  smiles;  she  was 
proud  of  the  good-looking  man  who  had  carried 
her  brother's  colors  to  victory. 

Picton,  as  he  walked  about  with  Rita,  Dick,  Cap- 
tain Ben  and  a  host  of  friends,  was  the  cynosure  of 
all  eyes;  but  he  was  accustomed  to  being  stared  at. 

"Now  comes  the  tug-of-war,"  said  Dick.  "There's 
The  Rascal.  See  how  he's  lashing  out,  scattering 
the  crowd.  I  believe  he's  in  a  nasty  temper,  con- 
found him." 

There  were  five  runners  in  the  Steeplechase,  and 
although  The  Rascal  had  Picton  up,  the  favorite 
was  Anstey,  who  had  Hordern  in  the  saddle.  The 
Tor,  Moorland,  and  Stream,  were  the  other  run- 
ners, but  wagering  was  confined  to  the  favorite  and 
The  Rascal. 

Picton  walked  up  to  his  mount;  The  Rascal 
switched  round,  despite  Brent's  efforts,  and  refused 
to  be  mounted.  His  rider  watched  him  with  an 
amused  smile;  Dick  and  his  sister  looked  anxious, 
while  a  crowd  gathered  round  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance. 

Picton  bided  his  time,  then,  when  The  Rascal 
had  his  attention  attracted  by  Brent,  slipped  up  to 
him,  took  the  reins  and  swung  into  the  saddle,  and 
before  the  astonished  horse  recovered  from  his  sur- 
prise he  had  him  well  under  control.  The  specta- 
tors cheered ;  it  was  a  clever  piece  of  work,  deserv- 


PICTON'S  WINNING  MOUNTS      43 

ing  of  recognition.  Once  mounted,  The  Rascal 
seemed  tractable  enough ;  but  Picton  knew  the  horse 
was  not  in  the  best  temper,  and  required  humoring. 

''You've  not  got  a  very  nice  mount,"  said  Hor- 
dern  as  they  rode  together. 

"I'm  told  he's  queer-tempered,"  said  Picton;  and 
as  he  looked  at  Anstey  he  thought :  "Your  mount 
will  take  a  bit  of  beating." 

They  were  soon  on  their  journey.  At  first  The 
Rascal  made  a  deliberate  attempt  to  bolt;  he  dis- 
covered he  had  a  rider  who  refused  to  put  up  with 
his  inclinations  in  this  direction.  Finding  bolting 
stopped,  he  tried  to  swerve  at  the  first  fence;  this 
object  was  also  frustrated  and  he  received  a  few 
stinging  cuts  from  the  whip,  wielded  by  a  strong 
arm.  These  vagaries  allowed  Anstey  and  the  oth- 
ers to  forge  ahead,  and  The  Rascal  was  in  the 
rear. 

Dick  looked  glum,  but  Brent  said :  "There's 
plenty  of  time.  He's  a  rare  turn  of  speed — and 
a  grand  rider  up." 

At  the  end  of  the  first  mile  The  Rascal  was  still 
last.  He  began  to  improve  his  position;  quickly 
passed  Stream,  and  Moorland,  then  the  Tor;  but 
Anstey  was  a  dozen  lengths  ahead,  fencing  well. 
Two  more  obstacles  then  the  run  home.  Picton 
rode  The  Rascal  hard  to  find  if  he  would  respond 
to  his  call.     Whatever  else  he  was,  the  horse  was 


44  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

game,  he  did  not  flinch,  and  Picton  was  surprised 
how  easily  he  went  ahead.  Anstey  blundered  at  the 
next  fence,  Hordern  making  a  fine  recovery;  this 
cost  the  favorite  several  lengths.  At  the  last  fence 
The  Rascal  was  only  three  or  four  lengths  behind. 
Anstey  cleared  it  well,  The  Rascal  struck  it,  stum- 
bled, threw  Picton  on  his  neck,  struggled  up  again ; 
and  Picton  was  back  in  the  saddle  and  riding  hard 
before  the  crowd  realized  what  had  happened. 
Then  a  great  cheer  broke  out,  for  a  splendid  bit  of 
jockeyship. 

"Not  one  man  in  a  hundred  could  have  done 
that,"  said  Brent  enthusiastically. 

Hordern  thought  he  had  the  race  won.  The  Ras- 
cal on  his  knees,  with  Picton  on  his  neck,  was  good 
enough  for  him.  He  took  a  pull  at  Anstey;  he 
intended  winning  the  double,  and  did  not  wish  to 
press  him  too  hard.  It  was  a  blunder;  he  found  it 
out  when  he  heard  the  cheering  and  cries  of,  "Well 
done,  Picton!"  "Rascal's  catching  him!"  The 
stumble  seemed  to  put  new  life  into  The  Rascal, 
for  once  again  he  showed  what  a  rare  turn  of  speed 
he  possessed. 

Picton  rode  his  best. 

"Rita  expects  me  to  win — I  will,"  he  thought; 
and  something  told  The  Rascal  it  would  be  bad  for 
him  if  he  failed  to  do  his  best. 

Two   hundred   yards   from    the    winning    post 


PICTON'S  WINNING  MOUNTS      45 

Anstey  led,  but  it  had  taken  Hordern  a  few  mo- 
ments to  get  him  going  again  when  he  realized  the 
situation.  It  was  dangerous  to  play  these  games 
with  Picton.  The  Rascal  came  along,  moving 
splendidly;  he  gained  on  Anstey,  drew  level,  held 
him,  then  got  his  head  in  front.  Hordern  rode  well, 
but  he  had  met  his  match.  The  Rascal  drew  ahead 
and  won  by  a  length  amidst  tremendous  cheering 
— Picton  Woodridge  was  the  hero  of  the  day.  Rita 
was  proud  of  him  and  told  him  so  at  Torwood  the 
same  night.  The  Rascal  had  been  backed  to  win 
the  double  with  every  man  who  had  a  book  on  the 
races,  so  next  day  the  excitement  rose  to  fever  heat 
when  the  Torbay  Steeplechase  came  on  for  deci- 
sion. 

The  Rascal  was  in  the  best  of  tempers,  he  actual- 
ly allowed  Picton  to  stroke  his  face,  pat  his  neck, 
and  pay  him  sundry  attentions;  Rita  gave  him 
lumps  of  sugar,  and  said  he  was  the  dearest  and 
best  of  Rascals. 

"You  will  win  the  double,"  she  said  to  Picton. 
"I  am  sure  of  it." 

"And  I'll  try  to  win  a  far  richer  prize  before 
long,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  in  a  way  that  caused 
the  red  blood  to  mount  to  her  cheeks. 

Anstey  ran  again,  but  the  main  opposition  was 
expected  to  come  from  Sandy,  a  Newton  Abbot 
horse.    Dick's  horse  had  to  give  him  a  stone,  which 


46  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

was  a  tall  order,  but  Brent  said  he  could  do  it,  un- 
less Sandy  had  improved  out  of  all  knowledge. 

"I'd  take  The  Rascal  to  the  front  this  time,"  said 
Brent  to  Picton;  "he's  in  a  good  temper  and  when 
that  is  the  case  he  likes  to  make  the  pace,  and  he 
jumps  freer." 

"If  he'll  do  it,  I'll  let  him,"  said  Picton.  "Will 
he  stay  there?  Remember  he's  giving  lumps  of 
weight  away." 

"He  can  do  it,"  was  the  confident  reply. 

Six  runners  went  out,  a  field  above  the  average 
at  Petitor. 

Most  people  thought  some  of  the  runners  would 
have  been  better  out  of  it,  they  would  only  be  in 
the  way,  a  danger  to  the  others  at  the  fences;  a 
blunderer  is  often  a  veritable  death  trap. 

It  astonished  Leek,  who  was  on  Sandy,  to  see 
Picton  take  The  Rascal  to  the  front.  He  smiled  as 
he  thought,  "He's  making  a  mistake  this  time." 

Evidently  the  others  thought  the  same,  for 
they  patiently  waited  for  the  leader  to  come  back 
to  them. 

Arnold  Brent  smiled. 

"I  gave  him  good  advice.  They're  doing  exact- 
ly what  I  thought  they  would,  waiting.  Let  'em 
wait." 

The  distance  was  two  miles  and  a  half.  The 
Rascal  held  a  big  lead  at  the  end  of  a  mile  and 


PICTON'S  WINNING  MOUNTS       47 

a  half.  Leek  on  Sandy  thought  it  was  about  time 
he  came  back  to  him,  but  The  Rascal  showed  no 
sign  of  this;  on  the  contrary,  he  gained  ground. 
To  go  after  him  was  the  best  thing  and  Leek  tried. 
Much  to  his  astonishment,  he  discovered  the  pace 
was  much  faster  than  he  thought ;  Sandy  made  very 
little  headway.  At  first  Picton's  policy  of  making 
the  running  was  considered  a  mistaken  one;  this 
opinion  changed  as  the  race  progressed;  and  when 
they  saw  Leek  hard  at  work  on  Sandy  in  second 
place  and  making  hardly  any  headway,  The  Ras- 
cal's numerous  backers  were  jubilant.  The  cheer- 
ing commenced,  it  became  deafening  as  Picton  drew 
near  to  the  winning  post  It  was  an  extraordinary 
race.  The  Rascal,  the  top  weight,  made  all  the 
running  and  won  by  twenty  lengths;  more  than 
that,  he  was  not  in  the  least  distressed. 

Picton  was  congratulated  on  all  sides.  Turning 
to  Dick  and  Rita  he  said :  "He's  one  of  the  best 
horses  I  have  ever  ridden  over  fences;  there's  a 
National  in  him." 

Dick  shook  his  head. 

"You're  too  enthusiastic.  Wait  until  you've 
cooled  down,"  he  said. 

"I  shall  not  alter  my  opinion,"  said  Picton. 
"Where's  Planet?" 

"Over  there,"  said  Dick,  and  they  walked  across. 

The  next  race  was  the  Marychurch  Hurdle  Plate, 


48  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

and  Picton  rode  Planet.  The  race  needs  little  de- 
scription; there  were  three  runners,  and  Dick's 
horse  won  comfortably. 

At  Torwood  that  evening  there  were  great  re- 
joicings; but  as  Picton  wished  to  sleep  on  the 
Sea-mew  he  and  Ben  were  driven  to  Torquay. 

Before  he  left,  Picton  said  to  Rita:  "Next  time 
I  am  here  I  have  a  very  important  question  to 
ask  you." 

"Have  you?"  she  said.    "I  wonder  what  it  is." 

"Cannot  you  guess?" 

"I'll  try,"  she  answered,  smiling  happily. 

"It's  too  important  to  put  in  a  hurry,"  laughed 
Picton,  "and  I  haven't  the  courage  to  do  it  now." 

"Not  after  four  victories,"  she  answered,  laugh- 
ing 

He  shook  his  head,  as  he  got  up  beside  her 
brother  in  the  trap. 

"If  you  won't  sell  The  Rascal,  send  him  to 
Haverton,"  said  Picton  as  they  bade  Dick  good- 
night. 

"All  right,  I  will,  and  you  can  do  what  you  like 
with  him,"  said  Dick  cheerily. 

"Brack's  not  here ;  that's  strange.  We  shall  have 
to  get  some  one  else,"  said  Ben. 

They  hired  a  younger  man.  He  happened  to  tx* 
the  boatmen's  bookie. 


PICTON'S  WINNING  MOUNTS         49 

"Where's  Brack?"  asked  Ben. 

"He  backed  the  double  with  me  for  half  a  sov." 
said  the  man.  "He's  about  broke  me,  sir,  but  I 
don't  begrudge  it  him ;  he's  a  real  good  sort.  I 
expect  he's  celebrating  it  in  town." 

Brack  was  not  celebrating  it;  he  was  biding  his 
time,  and  opportunity. 


CHAPTER  VI 
in  brack's   cottage 

BRACK'S  was  a  humble  abode  not  far  from  the 
inner  harbor.  He  lived  there  with  his  mother. 
The  old  woman  idolized  him;  he  was  a  very  good 
son.  She  attended  to  their  small  wants  and  kept 
the  house  scrupulously  clean. 

"I've  brought  a  mate,  mother,"  said  Brack  as 
he  entered  with  his  companion. 

"He's  welcome,  my  boy."  She  always  called 
him  her  boy,  and  somehow  it  did  not  sound  strange. 

"Come  in,  don't  be  afraid,"  said  Brack. 

The  man  stepped  into  the  small  room,  looking 
round  suspiciously.  Why  had  Brack  brought  him 
here,  had  he  any  particular  reasons  for  doing  so, 
reasons  that  would  benefit  himself? 

Brack  gathered  something  of  what  was  passing 
in  his  mind  and  whispered,  "You'll  be  quite  safe 
here,  sit  down." 

They  had  a  fish  supper;  to  the  stranger  it  was 
the  most  wonderful  meal  he  had  partaken  of  for 
some  years.  He  ate  greedily,  he  could  not  help 
it,  but  Brack,  watching  him,  knew  he  was  a  well- 
bred  man. 

50 


IN  BRACK'S  COTTAGE  51 

The  old  lady  asked  no  questions,  she  never  ques- 
tioned what  her  son  did ;  she  bade  them  good-night 
and  went  to  her  room.  It  was  then  Brack  learned 
something  of  the  man  he  had  brought  to  his  home ; 
and  the  tale  harrowed  his  feelings,  froze  the  mar- 
row in  his  bones,  horrified  him;  he  shuddered  as 
he  imagined  what  this  highly  cultured  man  must 
have  suffered. 

They  talked  until  the  small  hours  of  the  morn- 
ing- Brack  considering  what  he  should  do,  how  to 
get  his  companion  away  from  Torquay? 

Suddenly  he  said,  "Do  yer  mind  telling  me  yer 
name?  I'd  like  to  know  it  in  case  I  hear  of  yer 
in  the  world  sometimes.  You'll  be  far  away  from 
here,  but  I'd  like  to  have  something  to  remember 
yer  by  and  I  reckon  yer  name's  the  best  thing." 

The  man  was  startled;  again  the  suspicious  look 
came  into  his  eyes.  Would  it  ever  be  entirely  ab- 
sent, that  haunted  gaze;  it  was  pitiable. 

"I  don't  want  it  if  you  don't  care  to  give  it 
to  me." 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  You  deserve  my  entire 
confidence.  You  are  running  grave  risk  for  my 
sake,  an  unknown  man,  a  stranger,  worse — an 
escaped  prisoner  from  Dartmoor." 

"Never  mind  the  risk;  we'll  not  trouble  about 
that,"   said   Brack. 


52  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Do  you  know  what  the  consequences  would  be 
if  it  were  known  you  had  hidden  me?" 

"I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care,"  said  Brack. 

"Think  of  your  mother." 

Brack  laughed  as  he  said :  "She'll  glory  in  what 
I've  done  when  I  tell  her;  she's  Bill  out  there." 

"I  forgot;  that  makes  all  the  difference.  And 
he's  innocent." 

"Like  you." 

"How  do  you  know  I  am  innocent?" 

"Yer  face  tells  me.  I'd  trust  a  man  like  you  any- 
where and  anyhow." 

"If  ever  I  come  into  my  own  again,  if  ever  my 
innocence  is  proved,  I'll  see  to  you  and  your  mother 
for  life,  and  I'll  promise  to  do  all  I  can  for  Bill, 
your  brother." 

Brack's  face  glowed. 

"Damn  me  but  you're  a  man!"  he  said  and 
seized  his  hand.  "I  forgot,  I'm  a  fool,"  he  added, 
as  the  man  winced.  The  pain  from  Brack's  hon- 
est grip  was  intense. 

"I  will  tell  you  my  name.  You  may  have  heard 
it  before — we  receive  news  sometimes — my  broth- 
er is  a  famous  rider.  You  are  a  bit  of  a  sports- 
man?" 

"I  am,"  said  Brack.  "I've  had  a  tip  for  the  races 
here,  for  the  double,  and  I've  got  ten  bob  to  put 
on;  the  gentleman  who's  goin'  to  ride  gave  it  me. 


IN  BRACK'S  COTTAGE  53 

He  says  to  me  as  I  left  the  yacht — I'd  rowed  him 
out  there — he  says,  'Here,  Brack,  there's  half  a 
sov.  for  you.  Back  The  Rascal  for  the  double.' 
And  I  mean  to." 

"The  Rascal?" 

"That's  the  name  of  the  horse — funny,  isn't  it?" 

"Who  was  the  gentleman?" 

"The  owner  of  the  Sea-mew,  the  yacht  lying 
at  anchor  in  the  bay." 

"The  yacht  with  such  beautiful  lines,  painted 
white?  I  just  saw  her  as  I  came  along  by  the 
wall  before  I  met  you,  my  good  friend." 

"That's  her.  She's  not  big  but  she's  a  gem. 
She's  been  here  several  times." 

"And  who  is  the  owner?" 

"The  same  as  rides  Mr.  Langford's  horses  at 
the  races." 

"But  you  have  not  told  me  who  he  is." 

"Ain't  I?  No  more  I  have!  It's  Mr.  Picton 
Woodridge." 

The  man  stared  at  Brack ;  he  seemed  on  the  point 
of  falling  off  his  chair. 

"Picton  Woodridge,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

"Yes;  have  you  met  him  in  days  gone  by?"  asked 
Brack. 

"He  is  my  younger  brother,"  said  the  man.  "I 
am  Hector  Woodridge." 

It  was  Brack's  turn  to  stare  now.     This  man  he 


54  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

had  brought  to  his  home  Picton  Woodridge' s  broth- 
er? Was  it  possible?  This  was  indeed  a  strange 
chance!  He  peered  into  his  companion's  face,  try- 
ing to  trace  a  resemblance,  and  found  one. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "you're  like  him,  or  you  were 
once." 

Hector  Woodridge  sighed. 

"Once,"  he  said;  "it  all  seems  such  a  long  while 
ago." 

"I  remember,  I  recollect  now,"  said  Brack.  "I 
wonder  it  did  not  strike  me  afore.  Yer  a  York- 
shire family.  I  know,  at  Haverton.  I  was  a  boat- 
man at  Scarborough  when  it  happened.  I  always 
said  you  were  innocent;  I  call  to  mind  the  trial 
well.  Yer  Mr.  Hector  Woodridge,  thank  God  for 
that ;  I  see  a  way  out  of  it  all.  You  must  bide  here 
and  I'll  pick  the  night  when  I  can  get  you  away." 

"Get  me  away!"  exclaimed  Hector.  "How, 
where  shall  I  go?" 

"Leave  that  to  me.  There's  a  man  on  the  watch 
here.  His  name's  Carl  Hackler.  He's  from  Dart- 
moor, and  he's  prowling  around  here  on  the  lookout 
— has  been  for  a  week  or  more." 

"I  don't  remember  his  name,"  said  Hector. 

"Likely  enough  not ;  there's  plenty  of  'em  there 
as  you'd  never  see,  but  he's  seen  you,  and  he'd 
recognize  you.     I've  fooled  him  once  and  I  think 


IN  BRACK'S  COTTAGE  $$ 

he  knows  it;  I'll  have  a  stiff  job  to  do  it  again; 
but  I  will  do  it,  and  you'll  get  clear  away." 

"What  is  your  plan?" 

Brack  hesitated;  he  wondered  if  Hector  Wood- 
ridge  would  care  to  go  on  board  the  Sea-mew, 
whether  he  would  be  afraid  to  implicate  his  brother. 
He  decided  it  would  be  better  for  his  purpose  not 
to  say  what  his  plan  was  until  he  had  his  man  safe 
in  his  boat  on  the  way  to  the  yacht. 

"I'll  tell  you  that  when  the  time's  ripe.  You'd 
best  turn  in  and  have  some  sleep;  you  look  as 
though  you  could  do  with  it." 

"I  can.     Where  shall  I  go?" 

"In  there,"  said  Brack,  pointing  to  a  small  room. 

"It  is  your  room." 

"Never  mind  me.    Go  in  and  rest." 

Hector  was  dead  beat.  He  opened  the  door,  he 
was  so  exhausted  he  fell  fast  asleep  before  he  had 
time  to  undress. 

Brack  sat  ruminating  until  an  early  hour.  This 
discovery  that  his  guest  was  Hector  Woodridge 
stunned  him,  he  could  not  comprehend  it.  He  rec- 
ollected all  about  the  celebrated  trial  which  resulted 
in  Hector  Woodridge  being  condemned  to  death 
for  the  murder  of  the  husband  of  the  woman  he 
had  become  entangled  with.  All  Yorkshire  signed 
the  petition  for  a  reprieve  and  the  sentence  was 
commuted  to  penal  servitude  for  life.     He  remem- 


56  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

bered  how  the  shock  killed  Admiral  Woodridge, 
Hector's  father. 

Brack  went  to  the  old  black  horse-hair  sofa  and 
lay  down.  He  was  soon  asleep,  dreaming  in  a  few 
minutes,  strange  dreams  in  which  convicts,  Dart- 
moor, the  Sea-mew,  The  Rascal,  Carl  Hackler,  and 
divers  and  other  persons  and  places  were  mixed  up 
in  the  most  extraordinary  manner. 

A  knocking  at  the  door  roused  Brack. 

Sitting  up,  he  rubbed  his  eyes,  yawned,  strug- 
gled to  his  feet.     He  had  his  sailor  clothes  on. 

Another  knock. 

"Comin'.  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.  Leave  the 
milk  can,  yer  fool." 

Another  knock. 

"Must  be  deaf.  Drat  the  lad,  what's  he  wakin' 
an  honest  man  up  at  this  hour  for?" 

He  went  to  the  door,  unlocked  it,  pulled  back 
the  bolt,  opened  it,  and  found  Carl  Hackler  stand- 
ing before  him. 

As  Brack  said  afterward:  "I  wish  I  could  'ave 
pushed  him  into  the  harbor,  me  a'top  of  him." 

"'Morning,  Brack.  I  want  a  boat;  can  you 
come  quick?"  said  Carl. 

Brack's  relief  was  so  great  that  he  gave  a  loud, 
startling  laugh. 

"What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Have 
you  suddenly  gone  mad?" 


IN  BRACK'S  COTTAGE  57 

"Sane  as  you  are,  Mister  Hackler,"  said  Brack. 
"Maybe  a  bit  saner  at  times." 

"I  believe  you  fooled  me  about  that  man  being 
rowed  out  to  the  tramp.  Anyhow  the  tramp's  here, 
put  back  for  something  I  suppose,  and  I'm  going 
to  board  her  before  she  leaves  again,  and  ques- 
tion the  skipper.  I  particularly  want  you  to  row 
me  out  because  I  mean  to  tell  him  who  gave  me 
the  information  while  you  are  alongside,"  said 
Hackler. 

"Now  I  call  that  nice  of  you,"  said  Brack.  "Here 
I  gives  you  the  best  tip  I  can  and  you  want  to  get 
me  into  trouble  if  it's  correct.  I  did  my  best  for 
yer,  Mr.  Hackler,  on  my  honor." 

"Will  you  row  me  out?"  said  Hackler  impa- 
tiently. 

"What's  it  worth?" 

"Five  shillings." 

"I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute,"  said  Brack.  "I'll 
just  tell  mother." 

"Let  her  know  her  little  boy  is  going  out  in  good 
company,"  said  Hackler. 

"I'll  tell  her  who  I'm  goin'  with,  then  she  can 
judge  for  herself,  whether  the  company's  good  or 
bad,"  replied  Brack. 

Hackler  laughed  as  he  said:  "You're  a  smart 
chap,  Brack." 


58  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Am  I?  Then  perhaps  you  can  find  me  a  job 
out  your  way." 

"Better  where  you  are,"  said  Hackler,  with  what 
sounded  very  much  like  a  sigh. 

Brack  went  into  his  mother's  room.  She  was 
awake. 

"What  is  it,  lad?"  she  asked. 

"Hush,  mother!  I'm  goin'  out  with  Hackler  in 
my  boat.  He's  the  man  from  Dartmoor,  on  the 
lookout  for  the  escaped  prisoner.  I'm  rowin'  him 
out  to  the  tramp;  she's  put  back  again." 

She  smiled;  she  knew  all  about  it. 

"Tell  him  not  to  stir  out  of  that  room  until  I 
comes  home.  He'll  sleep  a  good  while.  He  must 
not  come  out,  not  even  in  here — you  understand, 
mother?" 

"Yes,  but  who  is  he?" 

"He's  the  man  Hackler's  after;  the  man  who 
strangled  the  bloodhound.  He  knows  our  Bill. 
He's  a  gentleman;  he'll  do  what  he  can  for  him 
when  he's  proved  his  innocence.     He  is " 

"Come  on,  Brack ;  don't  be  all  day,"  called  Hack- 
ler. 

"I'll  see  to  him,  lad,  never  fear;  he's  safe  with 
me,"  said  his  mother. 

"Comin',"  said  Brack  as  he  went  out  and  joined 
him. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A   CRITICAL   MOMENT 

BRACK,  as  I  remarked  before,  you  are  a  smart 
fellow.  Were  you  putting  me  off  the  scent 
when  you  said  the  man  I  am  looking  for  went  off  in 
the  tramp?"  said  Hackler. 

"I  never  said  he  were  the  man;  I  said  there 
were  a  man  went  off  with  the  boat's  crew  to  the 
tramp." 

"I  gave  a  description  of  him." 

"It  seemed  like  him  to  me,"  said  Brack. 

They  reached  the  harbor;  Brack  pulled  in  his 
boat;  Hackler  stepped  in  and  was  rowed  toward 
the  tramp.  The  dirty  looking  steamer  was  farther 
out  than  anticipated,  and  Brack  took  his  time;  his 
practiced  eyes  discerned  something  invisible  to 
Hackler. 

"Steam  up,"  said  Carl. 

"Most  likely  she'll  be  going  in  an  hour  or  two." 

"I  wonder  what  she  put  back  for?"  said  Hack- 
ler half  to  himself. 

"Short  o'  coal,"  grinned  Brack. 

"Shut  up  and  don't  be  a  fool,"  growled  Carl. 
59 


6o  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Brack  could  see  the  steamer  as  he  looked  side- 
ways over  his  shoulder.  A  humorous  smile  stole 
over  his  face. 

"She's  movin',"  he  thought. 

There  was  a  stir  at  the  stern  of  the  tramp,  the 
screw  revolved,  she  was  steaming  away,  and  Carl 
Hackler  was  too  late.  When  he  recognized  this 
he  lost  his  temper;  he  had  taken  his  journey  for 
nothing.  Catching  sight  of  Brack's  face,  he  fancied 
he  detected  laughter  there;  this  did  not  improve 
matters. 

"Confound  you,  I  believe  you  knew  she  was 
going!"  he  said  angrily. 

"Not  until  the  screw  turned,"  said  Brack. 

Hackler  stood  up  in  the  boat  and  waved;  some 
one  on  the  tramp  answered  the  signal  but  she  con- 
tinued on  her  way. 

"D n  the  fellow,  why  doesn't  he  stop!"  raged 

Carl. 

"Looks  suspicious,  but  he  doesn't  know  who  you 
are.  If  he  did  he'd  be  sure  to  slow  down,"  said 
Brack. 

Carl  turned  round  quickly ;  he  had  an  idea  he  was 
being  chaffed  and  didn't  like  it.  He  stumbled, 
barked  his  leg  on  the  seat,  fell  forward,  and 
sprawled  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  He  did  not 
know  a  sudden  spurt  by  Brack  caused  this. 


A  CRITICAL  MOMENT  61 

He  floundered  about,  smothered  his  rage  as  best 
he  could,  then  ordered  Brack  to  row  him  back. 

"Hope  yer  not  hurt,"  said  Brack  sympathetically. 

No  answer  was  vouchsafed  to  this  polite  inquiry. 

"Looks  as  though  he  might  be  aboard  that 
tramp,"  said  Brack.  "They  got  off  pretty  sudden; 
perhaps  you  were  recognized." 

"Who'd  have  recognized  me?"  asked  Carl. 

"Him  as  yer  looking  for." 

Carl  laughed. 

"Not  likely;  I  don't  think  he  ever  saw  me." 

"But  you've  seen  him?" 

"Scores  of  times." 

"You'd   know  him  again?" 

"Of  course;  he's  easy  to  recognize.  But  they've 
probably  got  him  by  now." 

"Poor  chap." 

"Call  him  that,  do  you?  You'd  not  do  it  if  you 
knew  what  he  was  there  for." 

"Tell  me." 

"He  shot  a  man  whose  wife  he  had  been  carry- 
ing on  with.  It  was  a  brutal,  cold-blooded  mur- 
der. The  husband  found  them  together;  they  were 
fairly  trapped,  so  the  fellow  shot  him." 

"Funny  he  should  carry  a  revolver  about  with 
him,"  said  Brack. 

"It  wasn't  his  revolver,  it  was  the  husband's; 
that's  why  he  was  reprieved.     It  was  argued  that 


62  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

the  weapon  was  in  the  room,  that  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment  he  picked  it  up  and  shot  him." 

"Oh,"  said  Brack  meditatively.  "I  suppose  it 
never  occurred  to  you,  or  the  larned  judge,  or  the 
blessed  jury,  that  some  one  else  might  have  shot 
him." 

Carl  laughed. 

"Who  else  could  have  shot  him?" 

"It's  not  for  me  to  say;  I'm  not  clever  enough. 
She  might  'a'  done  it." 

"Who?" 

"The  wife." 

"What  nonsense!     He  confessed  he  did  it." 

"Eh!"  exclaimed  Brack. 

"I  say  he  confessed  he  fired  the  shot." 

"And  he  says  he's  innocent,"  said  Brack. 

Carl  stared  at  him. 

"Says  he's  innocent!"  he  exclaimed.  "How  do 
you  know?" 

Brack  saw  his  mistake  and  quickly  covered  it. 

"I  lived  in  Yorkshire  at  the  time.  I  know  all 
about  the  trial;  I  read  it." 

"Oh,"  said  Carl.  "If  you  read  it  you  know  more 
about  it  than  I  do." 

"Very  likely,"  said  Brack  as  the  boat  went 
alongside  the  steps. 

Carl  landed;  he  gave  Brack  half  a  crown. 

"Five  bob,"  said  Brack. 


A  CRITICAL  MOMENT  63 

"But  you  didn't  go  to  the  tramp." 

"I  couldn't;  she  was  away." 

"Then  you  can't  claim  the  lot,"  said  Carl,  who 
was  annoyed  at  missing  the  steamer. 

"I  suppose  not  exactly,"  drawled  Brack,  "but 
betwixt  gents,  I  should  say  it  holds  good." 

Despite  his  annoyance,  Carl  could  not  help  laugh- 
ing. 

"I  suppose  you  must  have  it,"  he  said,  and  hand- 
ed him  another  half-crown. 

"Goin'  home  to-day?"  asked  Brack. 

"Home!" 

"To  Dartmoor." 

"That's  not  my  home." 

"It's  where  yer  located,  at  any  rate." 

"I  don't  know.  There's  no  trace  of  the  man. 
It's  queer  where  he's  got  to ;  I  fancy  he's  dead — 
fallen  down  a  mine,  or  been  starved  out." 

"That's  about  it,"  said  Brack.  "Fancy  looking 
for  him  round  here !     Seems  a  bit  soft  to  me." 

"You  take  a  lot  of  interest  in  this  man,"  said 
Carl  eying  him  closely. 

"No  more  than  I  do  in  any  man  who  makes  a 
fight  for  liberty." 

"Would  you  let  'em  all  loose  on  Dartmoor?" 
sneered  Carl. 

"I'd  chance  it  if  there  were  any  innocent  men 
among  'em." 


64  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"There  are  none." 

"There's  one  I  know  of." 

"Who?" 

"My  brother  Bill." 

Carl  laughed  as  he  said :  "Your  brother  Bill  was 
lucky  not  to  be  hanged,"  and  walked  away. 

Brack  scowled  after  him  and  muttered:  "And 
you'll  be  lucky  not  to  be  drowned  if  yer  not  care- 
ful." 

When  Brack  arrived  home  he  told  Hector  Wood- 
ridge  what  happened. 

"By  gad,  he  gave  me  a  shock  when  he  came  to 
the  door  this  morning,"  said  Brack.  "You  must 
wait  for  to-night;  I'll  come  and  fetch  you  if  the 
coast  is  clear.  You'll  have  to  trust  me,  leave  it 
all  to  me." 

"I  will,"  said  Hector.  "I  can  do  nothing  for 
myself." 

"You  can  do  a  lot.  If  there's  danger  keep  cool 
and  don't  betray  any  alarm — face  it  out." 

"I  place  myself  entirely  in  your  hands,"  said 
Hector. 

There  was  no  chance  that  night.  Brack  stayed 
about  the  harbor  until  ten  o'clock.  Just  as  he 
thought  the  opportunity  favorable  Carl  Hackler 
turned  up,  and  Brack  made  for  home,  thinking  he 
had  not  been  seen.     He  was  mistaken. 

"Something  mysterious  about    the    old     fellow 


A  CRITICAL  MOMENT  65 

lately,"  thought  Carl.  "He  can't  know  anything; 
it's  absurd,  of  course;  but  I'll  swear  he  put  me 
off  the  scent  about  that  tramp.  Confound  him, 
he's  a  shrewd  'un,  he  is.  It's  my  belief  No.  832 
is  in  Torquay  somewhere.  There'll  be  a  shindy 
if  he  gets  away,  because  he's  got  a  lot  of  rich 
relations  I  believe;  somebody's  sure  to  say  it's  a 
put  up  job.  There  wasn't  any  put  up  business 
about  strangling  that  dog;  I  can't  help  admiring 
the  fellow  for  that.  He  bore  a  good  name  in  the 
prison  too." 

"No  go  to-night,"  said  Brack  as  he  came  in, 
"but  I've  got  a  bit  of  news." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Hector. 

"I've  won  the  first  part  of  my  bet  with  The* 
Rascal." 

Hector  could  not  help  smiling;  it  seemed  a  curi- 
ous piece  of  news  under  the  circumstances.  He 
said:  "I  hope  you'll  win  the  double." 

"It'll  mean  a  fiver  to  me,"  said  Brack,  "and 
that's  a  lot  to  a  poor  man." 

"You  shall  have  a  pocket  full  of  fivers  when 
I  prove  my  innocence,"  said  Hector. 

"I'd  not  take  'em,"  said  Brack.  "I'd  be  satis- 
fied to  know  I'd  done  you  a  good  turn,  that  I 
would,"  and  he  meant  it. 

Next  evening  Brack  was  very  well  pleased  with 
himself   when  The  Rascal  won  the  double.     He 


66  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

proceeded  to  draw  his  money  and  enlighten  the 
youthful  bookie  on  the  follies  of  gambling;  he  also 
exhibited  some  liberality  in  the  matter  of  drinks  to 
several  mates. 

He  saw  nothing  of  Carl  Hackler,  although  he 
walked  about  the  streets  and  loitered  near  the  water. 

"I'll  try  it  to-night,"  he  thought.  "The  races 
are  over  and  maybe  the  Sea-mew  will  sail  before 
morning.  There's  no  telling,  and  it's  the  best 
chance  there  is;  it  can't  be  missed;  it's  too  good, 
even  if  we  run  some  risk.  If  I  only  knew  where 
that  Dartmoor  chap  was.  I'd  give  half  my  win- 
nings to  know — I'd  give  the  whole  blessed  lot  to 
get  him  safe  on  that  yacht." 

Brack  went  home  full  of  his  plan,  and  how  best 
to  manage  it  without  exciting  suspicion. 

It  was  after  ten  o'clock  when  he  slipped  out  of 
the  house.  Hector  Woodridge  followed  at  some 
distance,  keeping  him  in  sight. 

"He's  going  to  the  harbor,"  thought  Hector. 
"What  will  he  do  there?" 

Brack  looked  round  in  every  direction  as  he  went 
down  the  steps  and  hauled  in  his  boat.  It  was  no 
unusual  thing  for  a  boat  to  go  out  at  night  to 
a  man-o'-war,  or  to  some  craft  lying  in  the  bay, 
but  he  was  not  fond  of  such  work  and  knew  if 
any  of  his  mates  saw  him  it  would  attract  notice. 


A  CRITICAL  MOMENT  67 

Looking  up,  he  saw  Hector  leaning  over,  and 
beckoned  him  to  come  down. 

"Once  we're  out  of  the  inner  harbor  there'll  not 
be  much  danger,"  said  Brack.  "Chuck  that  water- 
proof over  yer  shoulders;  it'll  keep  yer  warm  and 
it  looks  seaman-like.     Now  we're  ready." 

"Hallo,  Brack!" 

He  looked  up  and  saw  Carl  Hackler  on  the  steps 
peering  at  the  man  in  the  boat.  Brack  had  won- 
derful control.  It  was  a  matter  of  more  than  life 
or  death  to  Hector  Woodridge ;  if  Hackler  got  him 
he  would  be  sent  back  to  his  living  tomb,  for  such 
it  was  to  him. 

"Oh,  it's  you !"  said  Brack  with  as  much  con- 
tempt as  he  could  master.  "And  pray  what  are  you 
doing  here?  Want  another  trip  in  the  bay?  If 
you  do,  jump  in  and  I'll  take  you.  I've  got  the 
mate  of  the  London  Belle  here;  he's  a  bit  overseas 
and  I'm  taking  him  out.    Ain't  that  right,  Harry?" 

"That's  the  job,  Brack,  that's  it,"  hiccoughed 
Hector,  who  guessed  the  danger  was  great. 

"I've  half  a  mind  to  come,"  said  Carl,  not  quite 
satisfied,  but  utterly  deceived  by  Brack's  cool  man- 
ner. 

"You'll  have  ter  make  up  the  other  half  quick," 
said  Brack. 

"I'll  leave  you  to  it.  Mind  your  mate  doesn't 
fall  overboard,"  said  Carl. 


68  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"I'll  see  to  that,"  said  Brack. 

A  hoot  came  across  the  bay,  a  peculiar  sound. 
Brack  knew  it;  it  came  from  the  Sea-^new. 

He  sat  down  and  pulled  his  best.  Would  he  reach 
her  in  time? 

Carl  Hackler  watched  the  boat  until  it  was  out 
of  sight. 

The  hoot  came  again. 

"What's  that  steamer  sounding?"  he  asked  a 
sailor  close  to  him. 

"The  Sea-mew;  she'll  be  leaving  to-night,  I 
reckon." 

Carl  started.  Was  it  possible?  No,  of  course 
not.  What  a  fool  he  was;  and  yet,  Brack  was 
rowing  as  though  his  life  depended  on  it. 

"Better  make  sure,"  he  muttered,  and  turning 
to  the  boatman  said:  "Will  you  row  me  out  to 
the  London  Belief" 

"Yes,  sir,  how  much?" 

"Half  a  sovereign,"  said  Carl. 

Another  hoot  came  across  the  bay  from  the 
Sea-mew. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ON  BOARD  THE  "SEA-MEW" 

I  WONDER  if  the  beggar'll  follow  us,"  gasped 
Brack,  between  his  spurts;  "seemed  mor'n 
half  inclined  to  it — cuss  him  for  his  med- 
dling!" 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Hector. 

"To  the  Sea-mew." 

Hector  started — his  brother's  yacht.  He  must 
not  go  there.  What  would  be  the  consequences 
if  he  were  taken  on  her,  found  concealed?  Picton 
would  be  compromised,  in  grave  danger,  probably 
of  imprisonment. 

"I  cannot  let  you  go  there,"  said  Hector;  "it 
is  impossible." 

"Just  you  sit  still.  You're  a'goin'  there  whether 
you  like  it  or  not,"  said  Brack  doggedly. 

"I  will  not  place  my  brother  in  a  false  position." 

"What'd  you  do  if  he  were  in  your  place  and 
came  to  the  yacht  as  you're  doin'  ?" 

Hector  made  no  answer;  he  knew  he  would  take 
the  risk. 

69 


;o  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"There  y'ar,"  said  Brack  triumphantly;  "I  knew 
it.  You'd  take  him  aboard  and  gie  him  a  hearty 
welcome." 

"Put  back;  I  won't  go,"  said  Hector. 

"Put  back,  eh,  and  land  yer  right  in  his  arms. 
Not  me,  not  for  Brack,  oh  dear,  no;  you  just  sit 
still,  will  yer?" 

Brack  had  a  peculiar  habit  of  saying  "you"  and 
"yer,"  and  sundry  other  words,  changing  them  as 
the  mood  took  him. 

"Now  I'd  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  he'd  hired 
a  boat  and  was  on  his  way  to  the  London  Belle, 
just  to  scent  out  things;  he's  a  human  bloodhound, 
d n  him,  that's  what  he  is." 

"If  he  goes  to  the  London  Belle  he'll  find  out 
we  have  not  been  there  and  he  will  guess  we  have 
come  to  the  Sea-mew,"  said  Hector.  "I  cannot 
risk  it,  Brack." 

"Leave  him  to  me.  We'll  reach  the  Sea-mew 
long  afore  he  can  get  to  the  Belle.  That's  her 
out  there,   right  beyond  the  yacht.      I'll   put  you 

aboard  and  row  round  to  her  like  h ,  and  I'll 

meet  him  comin'  to  her  if  so  be  he's  set  out;  I'll 
see  he  doesn't  board  her  if  I  have  to  run  him 
down." 

Brack  was  pulling  with  all  his  might;  the  boat 
seemed  to  skim  through  the  still  water  of  the  bay 
like  a  skiff;  they  were  nearing  the  Sea-mew. 


ON  BOARD  THE  'SEA-MEW"       71 

Captain  Ben  Bruce  was  on  deck,  looking  over 
the  side.  They  were  about  to  leave  the  harbor; 
Picton  was  anxious  to  get  away.  He  was  in  the 
cabin.  Ben  left  him  reading;  probably  he  had  fall- 
en asleep  after  the  excitement  of  the  day. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  oars,  and  in  another 
minute  or  two  saw  the  boat  shooting  toward  the 
yacht. 

"Who's  this  coming  here?"  he  wondered. 

He  made  no  sound,  merely  watched,  wondering 
what  would  happen. 

Brack  did  not  see  him  as  he  came  alongside;  the 
gangway  steps  were  up ;  how  was  he  to  get  Hector 
aboard  ? 

"Is  that  you,  Brack  ?"  said  Ben. 

"It's  me,  sir.  Let  down  the  steps  quick.  I've 
something  to  say  to  you,  something  that  won't 
keep." 

"As  particular  as  all  that?" 

"Yes,  a  matter  of  life  or  death,"  said  Brack. 

"We're  just  about  to  leave  the  harbor." 

"For  God's  sake,  let  down  the  steps !"  said  Brack. 

Hector  did  not  move  or  speak;  his  nerves  were 
strung  to  the  highest  pitch,  he  quivered  all  over. 

Captain  Ben  called  a  hand  and  they  opened  the 
gangway  and  lowered  the  steps. 

"Now's  yer  time — go  up  quick!"  said  Brack. 

"Who's  that?"  asked  Ben,  as  Hector  rose  up. 


72  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"He's  comin'  aboard ;  he's  a  friend  of  Mr.  Wood- 
ridge's." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"He'll  tell  you  when  he's  aboard,"  said  Brack. 

"That  won't  do  for  me,"  said  Ben. 

"Don't  yer  trust  me?"  asked  Brack. 
Yes. 

"Then,  for  God's  sake,  let  him  aboard  or  you'll 
regret  it  for  the  rest  of  your  days." 

"Come  up,"  said  Ben,  thinking  it  passing  strange 
the  man  did  not  give  his  name. 

Hector  hesitated ;  Brack  urged  him  on. 

"Go,  go !  Think  what  I've  got  to  do — row  round 
by  the  Belle  in  case  he's  after  us." 

Hector  hesitated  no  longer;  he  could  not  leave 
Brack  in  the  lurch,  and  if  Hackler  found  out  they 
had  not  rowed  to  the  Belle  there  would  be  trou- 
ble. He  got  out  of  the  boat;  no  sooner  was  he 
on  the  steps  than  Brack  pushed  off  and  shot  away. 
Ben  called  after  him  but  he  did  not  stop;  he  was 
making  for  the  London  Belle  as  fast  as  he  could 
row. 

"Who  are  you?"  again  asked  Ben  as  he  came 
on  deck. 

Hector  trembled  with  excitement;  he  was  un- 
strung, he  had  suffered  much;  the  chase  over  the 
moor,  the  battle  with  the  hound,  the  naked  flight, 
hunger,  exposure,  the  fear  of  being  taken,  the  sus- 


ON  BOARD  THE  "SEA-MEW"      73 

pense  of  the  past  few  days  brought  on  a  burning1 
fever.  He  tried  to  speak  but  could  not ;  his  tongue 
clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth;  his  lips  were 
parched ;  he  held  out  his  hands  in  a  helpless  fashion ; 
he  staggered,  reeled  across  the  deck.  Ben  gazed 
at  him  in  wonder.  He  could  not  make  it  out. 
There  was  something  very  mysterious;  Brack  must 
have  known  what  he  was  doing. 

Hector  groped  along  the  deck  like  a  man  walking 
unsteadily  in  his  sleep;  he  mumbled  to  himself, 
looked  from  side  to  side  furtively,  began  to  run, 
stopped,  knelt  down,  put  his  face  close  to  the  deck 
in  a  listening  attitude.  Ben  watched  him,  followed 
him.    Was  this  a  madman  Brack  had  put  on  board  ? 

Presently  Hector  came  across  a  coil  of  rope. 
He  seized  it  with  both  hands  and  wrestled  with  it 
in  his  fierce  grasp. 

"Strangling  some  one,"  thought  Ben. 

"You  beast,  you're  dead,  ha,  ha,  ha,  I've  done 
for  you!"  and  the  weird  laugh  sounded  doubly 
strange  on  the  water. 

Hector  rose  and  pulled  off  his  coat,  then  stripped 
off  his  shirt. 

"I  must  stop  this,"  said  Ben.  He  stepped  for- 
ward and  was  about  to  take  him  by  the  arm,  when 
Hector  whipped  round  and  flung  himself  on  him. 

"You'll  never  take  me  alive,  never,  I'll  die  first! 


74  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Kill  me  if  you  like — I'll  never  go  back!"  hissed 
Hector,  as  he  clenched  Ben  by  the  throat.  It  was 
an  easy  matter  for  the  Captain  to  hold  him  off  at 
arm's  length,  a  strong  man  against  a  weak,  and 
as  he  did  so  he  saw  into  his  face  by  the  light  of 
the  lamp  behind  him. 

Something  in  the  face  roused  memories  in  Ben. 
He  looked  long  and  earnestly.  The  fever-stricken 
man  returned  his  gaze;  the  poor  tired  brain  had 
a  glimmering  of  reason  again.  Thus  they  stood, 
gazing,  forging  the  past,  piecing  links  together  in 
a  chain  of  recollection. 

"Ben,  Ben,  don't  you  know  me?" 

It  was  a  bitter,  heartbroken  cry,  a  wail  of  an- 
guish, and  it  struck  Ben  like  a  knife,  it  seemed  to 
cut  through  him.  As  Hector's  cry  ceased  he  fell 
forward  into  Ben's  arms.  Like  a  flood  the  inci- 
dents of  the  past  few  days  rushed  into  Ben's  mind. 
The  boom  of  the  gun,  the  escape  of  the  convict, 
Brack's  story,  the  strangling  of  the  bloodhound,  the 
man  on  the  road  to  Torwood. 

"Great  heaven,  it's  Hector!"  said  Ben.  "Poor 
fellow !    My  God,  what  a  wreck !" 

Then  his  thoughts  flew  to  Picton.  It  would  never 
do  to  let  him  know  to-night;  he  must  be  prepared 
for  the  shock.  Where  to  conceal  Hector?  For 
the  present,  at  any  rate,  he  would  put  him  in  his 


ON  BOARD  THE  'SEA-MEW"       7$ 

cabin.  The  hands  on  board — could  they  be  trusted? 
Some  story  would  have  to  be  concocted.  There  was 
a  man  near  and  Ben  called  him. 

"Help  me  to  carry  him  into  my  cabin,"  said  Ben. 

The  sailor  obeyed  without  a  word.  He  was  an 
elderly  man;  he  had  served  with  Captain  Bruce  on 
the  Tiger. 

"Say  nothing  of  this  until  I  give  you  permis- 
sion," said  Ben. 

"Right,  sir,"  said  Abe  Glovey. 

"Abe,  you  are  much  attached  to  Woodridge  and 
myself?" 

"I  am,  sir." 

"Can  you  persuade  every  man  on  board  to  keep 
this  man's  presence  here  a  secret  ?  It's  very  impor- 
tant." 

"It  shall  be  done,  sir.  They  are  all  good  men 
and  true." 

"Mr.  Woodridge  will  reward  them  handsomely 
if  nothing  transpires  ashore." 

Hector  lay  on  Captain  Ben's  bunk,  and  they  stood 
looking  at  him. 

Ben  took  a  sudden  resolution. 

"Abe,  I  will  confide  in  you,  tell  you  a  secret, 
which  if  disclosed  means  ruin  to  us  all,  and  a  living 
death  to  him." 

"I  think  I  understand,  sir." 


76  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"You  guess  who  he  is?" 

"I  know,  sir.  A  terrible  change  has  come  over 
him,  and  no  wonder,  but  I  can  recognize  him,  for 
I  knew  him  and  loved  him  in  the  old  days.  There's 
not  one  in  a  thousand  would  know  him,  but  I  do 
— it's  Hector,  sir,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  it's  Hector  Woodridge,  or  what's  left  of 
him.     He's  in  a  bad  way,  Abe." 

"He  is,  sir." 

"And  we  can't  have  a  doctor  to  him." 

"No,  sir,  but  we'll  pull  him  through.  Every 
man  of  us  will  help.  Give  me  permission  to  tell 
them.  They'll  stand  by  him  and  Mr.  Picton;  you 
need  have  no  fear  of  that,  sir." 

"Trust  them  all ;  yes,  that  will  be  the  best,"  said 
Ben. 

"I'm  sure  you're  right,  sir;  quite  sure." 

Captain  Ben  gave  orders  for  the  Sea-mew  to 
leave  Torbay,  and  she  was  soon  moving  slowly 
toward  the  sea. 

He  sat  beside  Hector  and  listened  to  his  moan- 
ing and  muttering.  He  saw  the  wasted  form,  the 
haggard,  drawn  face,  the  gray  hair,  then  he  noticed 
the  hands  and  shuddered.  What  an  awful  chase 
that  must  have  been  across  the  moor,  bloodhounds 
on  his  track,  every  man's  hand  against  him,  no 
hope,  no  place  to  hide  in.     Yet  there  must  have 


ON  BOARD  THE  "SEA-MEW"        773 

been  one  man  whose  compassion  had  been  aroused 
on  the  moor,  the  man  who  clothed  Hector,  when  he 
found  him  almost  naked.  Ben  vowed  when  he 
knew  that  man's  name  he  should  receive  his  due 
reward.  And  there  was  another  man,  Brack,  hon- 
est rough  old  Brack,  with  a  heart  of  gold,  and 
the  courage  of  a  bulldog.  Ben  felt  it  was  good 
to  be  a  sailor  and  be  one  of  such  a  class. 

Brack  must  have  discovered  Hector  in  Torquay, 
and  hidden  him  until  he  could  get  him  on  the  Sea- 
mew.  Where  had  he  found  him?  That  story  was 
to  be  told.  They  were  only  just  in  time;  Ben 
thought  what  might  have  happened  had  they  missed 
the  Sea-mew  and  had  to  return  to  Torquay,  and 
shuddered.  He  vowed  again  that  Hector  should 
not  be  recaptured;  no,  not  if  he  had  to  sail  the 
Sea-mew  half  the  world  round,  and  fight  for  him. 
It  would  be  weeks,  perhaps  months,  before  the 
fever-stricken  man  became  well,  and  there  was  no 
better  hiding-place  than  the  Sea-mew,  and  no  bet- 
ter doctor  than  the  sea  and  its  attendant  breeze. 

Brack,  rowing  from  the  London  Belle,  saw  the 
Sea-mew  moving  slowly  toward  the  entrance  to  the 
bay. 

"He's  safe;  they'll  never  part  with  him.  Brack, 
you're  not  such  a  bad  sort  after  all!  I  wonder 
where's  Hackler  got  to — perhaps  he  didn't  follow 
us,"  thought  the  old  boatman. 


78  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

He  lay  on  his  oars  and  watched  the  Sea-mew's 
lights  until  they  disappeared. 

"There's  a  boat  comin'  now — wonder  if  it's 
him  ?"  he  said  with  a  chuckle.  "I'm  ready  for  him, 
anyway." 


CHAPTER  IX 


LENISE    ELROY 


YOU'LL  have  to  hurry,"  said  Hackler  im- 
patiently as  the  seaman  slouched  round  for 
his  boat. 

"That's  my  craft  over  there;  I'll  have  her  along- 
side in  a  bit,"  said  the  man. 

"Can't  we  take  this  boat?" 

"No,  I'll  get  my  own;  besides,  I'm  used  to  her." 

It  seemed  a  long  time  to  Carl  before  the  man 
brought  the  boat  alongside  and  he  was  seated  in 
her. 

"Row  faster!"  said  Carl. 

"Wait  until  we're  out  of  the  harbor;  it's  rather 
dark." 

"Go  ahead,  pull!" 

The  man  obeyed.  He  was  not  such  a  skillful 
pilot  as  Brack;  as  they  reached  the  wall  he  pulled 
hard  with  his  right  and  the  boat  crashed  into  the 
stonework.  Carl  shot  forward,  bruising  his  face; 
there  was  a  sound  of  splintering  timber;  the  boat- 
man  fell   forward.     When    they    recovered,    Carl 

79 


80  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

cursed  him  for  a  blundering  fool.  The  man  found 
the  boat  leaked  badly ;  there  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  row  back  as  fast  as  possible  and  take  another. 

This  caused  a  delay  and  enabled  Brack  to  put 
Hector  aboard  the  Sea-mew  and  row  round  by  the 
Londo  ',  Belle  in  time. 

"Who  goes  there?"  shouted  Brack. 

Carl  was  sick  of  the  whole  business;  he  was  glad 
to  hear  Brack's  voice.  He  had  been  to  the  London 
Belle,  his  story  was  correct.  What  a  fool  he,  Carl, 
had  been  for  his  pains! 

There  was  no  answer  to  Brack's  hail.  Carl  said 
to  the  man:  "Keep  on  rowing;  never  mind  him." 

This  did  not  suit  Brack's  purpose.  He  had  no 
desire  for  Carl  to  go  on  board  the  London  Belle; 
that  would  upset  everything. 

Brack  went  after  the  boat,  quickly  overtaking 
it.     By  the  dim  light  he  saw  who  was  in  it. 

"You  again!"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "What  yer 
scouring  the  bay  at  this  time  o'  night  for  ?  Looking 
for  pirates?" 

"No,  smugglers!"  said  Carl. 

"Hope  ye'll  catch  'em.  Where  do  they  hail  from  ? 
I  thought  the  days  of  smuggling  in  Torbay  were 
over.  Better  come  with  me;  I'll  row  you  back 
quicker  than  him,"  said  Brack. 

An    altercation    ensued    between    the    seamen. 


LENISE  ELROY  81 

Brack  had  insulted  Carl's  man;  the  wordy  warfare 
became  furious. 

"Row  back  to  the  harbor!"  shouted  Carl  in  a 
rage.  "And  you  sheer  off  or  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  you." 

This  was  all  Brack  wished  to  hear.  If  Hackler 
returned,  there  was  no  danger. 

"Keep  cool,"  shouted  Brack.  "I  reckon  I'll  be 
home  first." 

His  mother  was  sitting  up  anxiously  awaiting 
the  news  when  he  came. 

"He's  got  safe  away,  but  we  had  a  narrow 
squeak  for  it,"  he  said,  and  told  her  what  hap- 
pened. 

"I  wish  our  Bill  were  on  the  Sea-mew,"  she  said 
with  a  sigh. 

"Maybe  he  will  be  some  day,  mother,"  said 
Brack. 

The  Sea-mew  forged  ahead  toward  the  North 
and  Captain  Ben  watched  at  Hector's  bedside.  The 
unfortunate  man  slept  heavily  but  uneasily;  he 
groaned  and  raved  incoherently,  tossed  from  side 
to  side,  sometimes  in  danger  of  falling  out  of  the 
berth. 

Toward  six  o'clock  Ben  sent  for  Abe  Glovey, 
who  came  and  took  his  place  while  he  went  to  meet 
Picton. 

Ben  had  a  difficult  task  before  him.     He  wished 


82  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

to  break  the  news  gently;  the  shock  would  be 
great;  then  they  would  have  to  think  what  was 
best  to  be  done. 

Picton  was  out  early;  he  had  not  slept  well; 
strange  dreams  caused  him  uneasiness. 

"I've  had  a  restless  night.  You  look  as  though 
you  had,"  he  said  to  Ben. 

"I  have ;  it  has  been  a  strange  night.  I've  some- 
thing to  tell  you,"  and  he  proceeded  to  explain 
about  Brack  coming  to  the  yacht. 

"What  on  earth  did  he  want  at  that  hour  of  the 
night?"  said  Picton. 

"He  brought  some  one  to  see  me." 

Picton  was  surprised. 

"Who  was  it?" 

"A  man,"  said  Ben.  He  was  not  a  good  hand 
at  this  sort  of  thing;  he  wanted  to  blurt  it  all  out 
in  his  blunt  way. 

Picton  smiled. 

"Don't  beat  about  the  bush,  Ben;  you  can't  do 
it." 

"That's  a  fact,  I  can't.  You'll  stand  a  shock, 
Picton,  a  very  great  shock." 

"Is  it  tremendous?" 

"Yes,"  said  Ben  seriously.  "The  man  Brack 
brought  here  last  night  is  aboard  now;  he's  asleep 
in  my  cabin;  he  is  very  ill;  he  has  suffered  a  lot; 


LENISE  ELROY  83 

he  will  require  a  great  deal  of  care.  We  shall 
have  to  be  very  careful." 

Picton  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  Gradually 
a  light  broke  in  upon  him ;  he  turned  pale  and  felt 
giddy.  Ever  since  the  boom  of  the  gun  startled 
him  he  had  had  Hector  in  his  mind. 

"Was  it  Hector  who  escaped?"  he  asked. 

Ben  nodded. 

"Was  it  Hector  Brack  brought  to  the  Sea-mew?" 

Again  Ben  nodded. 

"Let  us  go  to  him,"  said  Picton. 

Ben  wondered  at  his  taking  it  so  calmly,  but  he 
knew  the  strain  must  be  great.  They  went  to  Ben's 
cabin. 

"Glovey's  inside;  I'll  send  him  out,"  said  Ben. 

When  the  man  was  gone  Picton  stepped  inside 
and  looked  at  his  brother  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"What  a  wreck,  Ben;  it's  awful." 

Captain  Ben  turned  away  his  head.  There  are 
some  things  worse  than  death  to  look  upon,  cause 
more  sorrow  and  pain. 

Hector  lay  on  his  back.  His  face  told  a  tale  of 
misery  such  as  few  care  to  hear,  and  none  to  suffer. 

"Leave  me,  Ben;  I'd  rather  bear  this  alone;  I 
may  get  used  to  it  in  time,"  said  Picton  in  a  hollow 
voice. 

Ben  put  his  hand  on  the  younger  man's  shoulder 
for  a  moment,  then  went  out  of  the  cabin;  he  never 


84  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

wished  to  feel  again  as  he  felt  then,  in  the  whole 
course  of  his  life.  Picton  watched  Hector,  heard 
his  ravings,  shuddered  at  them,  and  wondered  how 
it  were  possible  for  a  man  to  suffer  so  much  and 
live.  He  stayed  there  over  two  hours,  and  what 
his  thoughts  were  during  that  time  no  one  knew; 
there  was,  however,  throughout,  one  predominant 
resolve :  Hector  should  never  go  back  to  Dartmoor. 
He  would  sooner  see  him  dead;  it  would  be  more 
merciful.  What  roused  Picton  was  the  thought  of 
the  woman  who  had  done  this  thing;  he  held  her 
responsible.  She  was  older  than  Hector,  a  woman 
subtle,  versed  in  the  wiles  of  the  world,  and  she 
had  lured  him  to  destruction.  If  ever  a  woman 
should  suffer  she  ought.  He  wondered  how  she 
would  feel  if  she  stood  where  he  stood  now,  look- 
ing down  at  the  awful  disaster  of  this  man's  life. 
Would  she  smile?  She  might;  he  thought  she 
would;  he  believed  at  that  moment  she  was  the 
worst  woman  he  had  ever  heard  of.  She  must  pay 
the  penalty  sooner  or  later;  no  atonement  on  her 
part  could  wash  out  that.  These  thoughts  stifled 
him ;  he  opened  the  door  for  fresh  air.  Ben's  cabin 
was  on  deck ;  as  the  light  streamed  in  Hector  awoke. 
Before  Picton  realized  what  had  happened  his 
brother  sprang  from  the  berth,  rushed  past  him, 
and  had  Abe  Glovey  not  caught  him  round  the 
waist  would  have  flung  himself  overboard. 


LENISE  ELROY  85 

With  difficulty  they  carried  him,  struggling,  back 
to  the  cabin,  and  laid  him  down  exhausted. 

"He's  mad,"  said  Picton. 

"Temporarily,  but  we'll  cure  all  that.  I'm  a  bit 
of  a  doctor;  leave  him  to  me,"  said  Ben,  trying  to 
make  the  best  of  it. 

"What  are  we  to  do?"  asked  Picton. 

"You  mean  about  concealing  him?" 

"Yes." 

Ben  said  he  had  taken  Abe  Glovey  into  his  con- 
fidence, and  they  had  decided  the  whole  of  the  crew 
should  know  the  facts. 

"Will  it  be  safe?"  asked  Picton. 

"I  am  sure  of  it;  they  are  all  real  good  fellows, 
and  it  is  our  only  chance." 

"You  must  call  them  together  and  explain  it 
all,"  said  Picton. 

Ben  said  he  would,  and  went  on:  "This  is  the 
opportunity  we  have  waited  for — Hector's  escape. 
How  fortunate  we  came  here!  Providence  had  a 
hand  in  this,  it's  more  than  mere  coincidence,  and 
as  Providence  helps  those  who  help  themselves  we 
must  lend  a  hand.  When  Hector  recovers,  it  will 
be  some  weeks;  he  must  remain  on  the  Sea-mew 
until  he  becomes  a  changed  man.  In  twelve  months 
no  one  will  know  him  who  has  seen  him  now ;  the 
change  will  be  wonderful,  and  it  will  be  quite  as 
wonderful  a  change  from  what  he  was  before  the 


86  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

trial.  Hector  Woodridge  must  cease  to  exist ;  he 
is  dead ;  his  body  was  never  found  on  tne  Moor 
because  he  probably  fell  down  some  disused  mine 
or  was  drowned  in  a  still  pond.  That  way  safety 
lies,  but  there  may  be  one  stumbling-  block." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Picton. 

"Hector's  desire  to  prove  his  innocence,"  said 
Ben. 

"He  must  be  persuaded  that  will  be  easier  to  do 
if  it  is  thought  he  is  dead;  we  must  try  and  do  it." 

"We  have  tried ;  there  is  only  one  person  in  the 
world  who  can  prove  his  innocence,"  said  Ben. 

"Lenise  Elroy,"  said  Picton. 

"Yes,  Lenise  Elroy.  There  were  three  persons 
in  the  room  at  the  time :  Raoul  Elroy,  Lenise  Elroy, 
and  Hector,"  said  Ben. 

"Hector  said  at  the  trial  the  weapon  went  off 
in  a  struggle,"  said  Picton. 

"Lenise  Elroy,  with  apparent  reluctance,  said 
Hector  shot  her  husband,"  said  Ben. 

"If  this  were  not  true,  why  did  she  say  it?"  asked 
Picton. 

"She  may  have  thought  it  true.  Heaven  knows 
what  is  in  the  mind  of  a  woman  like  that!  But  the 
truth  will  come  out  some  day." 

"Still,  she  ought  to  have  shielded  him,  corrob- 
orated his  story  that  it  was  an  accident,"  said 
Picton. 


LENISE  ELROY  87 

"The  strangest  part  of  the  whole  thing  is  that 
Hector  has  not  told  even  you  what  actually  hap- 
pened," said  Ben. 

"And  I  don't  believe  he  will,"  said  Picton. 


CHAPTER  X 


HAVERTON 


WHEN  the  Sea-mew  arrived  at  Bridlington 
Bay  Hector  Woodridge  lay  at  death's  door, 
but  the  fever  had  somewhat  abated  and  the  ravings 
ceased.  He  was  completely  exhausted,  worn  out, 
and  Picton  doubted  if  he  would  have  strength  to 
struggle  back  to  life. 

Captain  Ben  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  illness  and 
was  confident  he  could  pull  Hector  round  in  time, 
but  he  said  it  would  take  many  weeks. 

What  was  to  be  done?  Picton  could  not  remain 
on  the  Sea-mew;  his  absence  would  be  noted  at 
Haverton,  where  Brant  Blackett  was  busy  with 
the  horses  and  expecting  his  arrival  daily. 

"Abe  Glovey  is  a  good  seaman,  quite  capable  of 
looking  after  the  Sea-mew,"  said  Ben.  "There  is 
no  reason  why  she  should  not  remain  here  for  a 
time;  there  will  be  nothing  unusual  about  it.  I 
will  stay  until  Hector  is  convalescent,  or  nearly  so, 
and  then  join  you  at  Haverton.  Glovey  can  take 
the  Sea-mew  short  cruises;  when  they  are  away 


HAVERTON  89 

from  the  coast  Hector  can  come  on  deck  freely 
without  danger.  Leave  it  all  to  me;  I'll  explain  to 
him  when  he  is  well  enough." 

Picton  thought  this  the  best  thing  they  could  do. 

He  went  ashore  at  Bridlington  and  from  there 
traveled  to  Haverton.  He  knew  he  was  running 
a  grave  risk  in  having  Hector  on  board  his  yacht. 
He  cared  very  little  about  that;  all  he  wanted  was 
for  his  brother  to  get  well.  He  was  certain  no 
one  would  recognize  him,  he  was  so  changed.  It 
was  a  long,  tedious  journey  to  Haverton,  and  Picton 
was  glad  when  it  was  over,  and  he  was  in  his  own 
house  again. 

Mrs.  Yeoman,  the  housekeeper,  was  surprised 
not  to  see  Captain  Bruce ;  he  was  seldom  away  from 
Picton.  He  explained  in  answer  to  her  question 
that  the  Captain  had  remained  on  the  Sea-mew 
to  see  to  some  repairs  in  the  engineers'  department. 
This  only  half  satisfied  her;  she  knew  McTavish 
was  a  capable  man  and  could  look  after  repairs 
himself.  She  had  a  very  kindly  feeling  toward 
Jack  McTavish,  who  sometimes  came  to  Haverton 
and  was  not  at  all  averse  to  a  mild  flirtation  with 
the  buxom,  comely  widow. 

When  she  saw  Blackett  she  asked  him  what  he 
thought  about  it. 

"Why  hasn't  the  Captain  come  with  him?  It's 
all  moonshine  his  staying  on  the  Sea-mew  to  see 


90  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

to  repairs  in  the  engine  room.  Mac's  quite  good 
enough  for  that  job,"   she  said. 

"It's  none  of  your  business,  anyway,"  said 
Brant;  "and  as  for  McTavish,  you're  prejudiced 
in  his  favor — I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  aren't 
Sarah  McTavish  some  day." 

"Nonsense,  Brant!  I've  had  one  dose  of  mar- 
ried life;  I  don't  want  to  try  it  again,"  she  said. 

"Give  the  poor  man  a  chance ;  he's  only  one  thing 
against  him,"  said  the  trainer. 

"And  pray  what's  that?"  she  asked. 

"His  name." 

"Jack  McTavish.  I  reckon  it's  the  equal  of  Brant 
Blackett,  anyway,"  she  said. 

He  laughed  as  he  answered :  "You're  always  a 
bit  touchy  where  the  McTavish  is  concerned.  I 
wish  you  luck  with  him,  Sarah.  We'll  see  you  a 
Highland  chieftainess  before  many  months  are 
passed.  I'll  put  myself  in  training  and  dance  a 
reel  after  the  ceremony's  over." 

"You're  old  enough  to  know  better,  and  you 
ought  to  have  more  sense,"  she  snapped,  and  walked 
away. 

Picton  had  been  at  Haverton  a  week  and  still 
Captain  Ben  did  not  come.  He  was  anxious,  but 
knew  he  could  do  no  good  if  he  went  to  the  yacht; 
he  was  better  away.  He  rode  several  of  the  horses 
at  work  to  keep  himself  occupied,   and  was  con- 


HAVERTON  91 

stantly  roaming  about  the  estate.  He  felt  lonely; 
he  missed  Ben  sadly;  he  was  such  excellent  com- 
pany. 

Haverton  was  a  large  mansion  situated  in  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  districts  in  Yorkshire.  The 
mansion  had  an  aspect  of  gentility,  and  its  vari- 
ous forms  of  architecture  made  it  doubly  interest- 
ing. The  strong  tower  on  the  North  East  dated 
from  Plantagenet  times,  and  was  a  fine  example 
of  those  peel  towers  on  the  border,  of  which  the 
most  southern  are  in  the  north  of  Yorkshire.  The 
west  side  was  in  the  Tudor  times,  showing  the  do- 
mestic architecture  of  the  period.  The  two  towers 
were  commanding  features  of  the  fine  old  mansion. 
The  gardens  were  lovely  old-world  places;  clipped 
yews  and  flower  beds  intermingled  on  the  south  ter- 
race. The  entrance  was  imposing  and  the  gates 
were  always  open,  as  though  the  visitors  were  ex- 
pected; the  hospitality  of  Kaverton  was  proverbial, 
even  in  such  a  county  as  Yorkshire. 

Picton  was  very  proud  of  the  old  mansion,  which 
had  been  in  the  possession  of  the  Woodridges  for 
many  generations.  He  loved  the  glorious  park  with 
its  magnificent  trees,  and  undulating  stretches  of 
land.  Oaks  of  great  age,  with  their  knotted  arms 
outstretched,  studded  the  landscape  in  all  directions. 
There  was  a  large  lake,  a  mile  long,  half  a  mile 
wide,  and  in  it  were  pike  of  great  size  and  weight. 


92  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

In  the  river  Aver,  which  flowed  through  the  park, 
were  trout,  perch,  grayling,  and  many  other  kinds 
of  fish,  and  here  they  were  safe  from  the  voracious 
pike  in  the  lake.  Picton  was  a  good  angler,  and 
he  loved  to  have  a  tussle  with  a  tvventy-four-pound 
pike,  or  a  thirty-one-pound  trout  in  the  river.  He 
was  the  owner  of  the  land  for  many  miles  round, 
numerous  farms,  which  had  been  in  the  same  fam- 
ilies for  ages,  and  the  famous  downs  of  Haverton, 
where  so  many  good  horses  had  been  trained. 
These  downs  were  magnificent  galloping  grounds, 
and  there  was  a  clear  stretch  of  three  miles  straight 
■ — small  wonder  that  Brant  Blackett  turned  out 
some  good  stayers. 

Picton  gloried  in  a  good  gallop  on  the  downs, 
where  the  wind  whistled  in  freedom,  and  where 
there  was  no  occasion  to  ease  a  horse  until  he  had 
done  a  four-  or  five-mile  burst. 

He  was  happy  at  Haverton — at  least  he  always 
appeared  to  be — but  there  was  one  thing  cast  a 
gloom  over  the  place  at  all  times:  that  was  the 
Admiral's  death,  and  the  cause  of  it — Hector's  sen- 
tence to  penal  servitude,  after  his  reprieve.  This 
was  why  Picton  did  not  care  to  be  alone  in  the  great 
house,  why  he  always  wished  Captain  Ben  to  be 
with  him.  He  had  many  friends  who  came  to  see 
him,  but  his  best  friend  next  to  Ben  was  Dick 
Langford,  and  he  was  far  away  in  Devonshire. 


HAVERTON  93 

Sarah  Yeoman,  at  the  end  of  a  week,  took  it 
upon  herself  to  speak  to  Picton. 

"You're  lonely,  sir;  you're  brooding.  It's  not 
good  for  young  folks  to  brood.  Wait  till  you're 
my  age;  then  you  can  start  if  you  are  so  minded. 
The  Captain  ought  to  come,  sir.  He's  been  galli- 
vanting on  the  Sea-mew  long  enough ;1  hope  there's 
not  a  lady  in  the  case,  Mr.  Picton,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Yeoman  was  privileged ;  she  had  been  at 
Haverton  since  she  came  as  a  girl  over  thirty  years 
ago  and  by  sheer  worth  had  risen  to  the  position 
of  housekeeper,  and  ruler,  at  Haverton.  Her  hus- 
band had  been  a  groom  there.  Sarah  Yeoman 
practically  ruled  everybody  and  everything  at 
Haverton ;  even  Robert  Rose,  the  butler,  Amos 
Kidd,  the  head  gardener,  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
male  and  female  kind  bowed  down  to  her  will. 
They  bowed  but  did  not  worship;  some  of  the  maids 
— there  were  four — would  have  liked  to  pull  her 
back  hair  at  times  and  scratch  her,  but  Sarah,  al- 
though aware  some  feeling  of  this  sort  existed,  went 
on  her  way  serene  and  calm,  knowing  she  was  do- 
ing her  duty.  There  was  one  thing  about  her:  she 
was  just,  she  held  an  even  balance  when  there  was 
a  dispute;  and  Fanny,  the  head  housemaid,  who  at 
times  almost  hated  her,  said  she'd  trust  Sarah  Yeo- 
man under  any  circumstances  to  arrive  at  a  right 
decision.     She  was  slow  to  anger  but  when  roused 


94  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"all  hands"  fled  from  her  wrath.  With  all  her 
faults,  there  could  have  been  no  better  woman  chos- 
en to  take  the  helm  at  Haverton.  She  was  loyal 
to  the  backbone;  she  considered  the  Woodridges 
the  best  family  in  Yorkshire,  or  any  other  shire. 
She  felt  the  blow  when  Hector  was  condemned, 
and  had  not  forgotten  it,  never  would  forget.  She 
loved  both  boys  in  her  motherly  way,  and,  although 
Picton  was  her  favorite,  she  held  Hector  in  high 
esteem.  She  was  surprised  at  Hector's  falling  a 
victim  to  a  woman,  she  would  not  have  been  sur- 
prised had  Picton  done  so. 

"No,  I  don't  think  there's  a  lady  in  the  case," 
replied  Picton,  smiling.  "At  least  I  am  not  aware 
of  it." 

"Sailors  are  sly,"  she  said. 

"I  thought  Captain  Ben  was  a  favorite  of  yours," 
he  said. 

"So  he  is,  but  sailors  are  sailors  all  the  same, 
and  there's  no  telling  what  he's  up  to  on  board  the 
Sea-mew,"  she  said. 

Picton  thought  she  would  be  astonished  if  she 
knew  what  Captain  Ben  was  up  to. 

"I  think  I'll  go  to  Bridlington  to-morrow  and 
see  him,"  he  said. 

"If  you  do,  bring  him  back  with  you." 

"I  will  if  possible." 


HAVERTON  95 

"Why  should  it  not  be  possible?  What's  to  hin- 
der him  from  coming?"  she  asked. 

They  would  need  her  help  later  on,  when  Hector 
came  to  Haverton ;  he  might  as  well  tell  her  now : 
she  was  thoroughly  trustworthy. 

"A  strange  thing  happened  when  we  were  at 
Torquay,"  said  Picton. 

She  waited  for  him  to  go  on. 

"Late  one  night,  just  before  we  sailed,  an  old 
boatman  rowed  across  the  bay  to  the  Sca-mcw 
bringing  a  man  with  him." 

"Well?"  she  said  anxiously. 

"Captain  Ben  was  on  deck,  the  boatman  hailed 
him  and  said  the  man  had  come  to  see  me.  Ben 
asked  his  name,  it  was  not  given,  but  the  boatman 
• — Brack  we  call  him — implored  him  to  permit  the 
man  to  go  on  board.  So  earnestly  did  he  plead 
that  Ben  opened  the  gangway  and  let  down  the  steps. 
The  man  no  sooner  set  foot  on  them  than  Brack 
cleared  away  as  fast  as  he  could.  The  man  came 
on  deck,  he  seemed  dazed,  behaved  like  a  madman. 
He  flung  himself  on  Ben,  who  easily  held  him  back, 
the  poor  fellow  was  terribly  weak  and  starved. 
Ben  looked  into  his  face,  the  man  looked  back ; 
they  recognized  each  other.  That  man  is  on  the 
Sea-mew  now.  Captain  Ben  is  watching  over  him, 
nursing  him  back  to  life  and  sanity.  A  great  and 
grave  task  lies  before  us.     We  have  to  shield  this 


96  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

man,  hide  him,  until  such  time  as  he  can  come 
ashore  without  danger  of  being  recognized.  There 
was  an  escape  from  Dartmoor  when  we  were  at 
Torquay,  Sarah." 

She  gasped;   she   felt   faint;  she  pulled  herself 
together. 

"An  escape  from  Dartmoor — not " 

"Hector.     He  is  on  the  Sea-mew.    That  is  why- 
Captain  Ben  is  not  here,"  said  Picton. 


CHAPTER  XI 


TEARAWAY  AND  OTHERS 


THERE  was  no  occasion  for  Picton  to  travel 
to  Bridlington.     Captain  Ben  arrived  next 
day  and  was  very  pleased  to  see  him. 

"He's  much  better,"  said  Ben;  "making  a  won- 
derful recovery.  He's  quite  sane,  remembers  every- 
thing, but  his  health  is  terribly  shattered  and  a  long 
rest  on  the  Sea-mew  will  do  him  a  world  of  good. 
He  has  no  desire  to  come  to  Haverton,  or  to  leave 
the  yacht;  he  thinks  he  is  safer  where  he  is,  and 
he  is  right.  There  was  no  need  to  caution  him 
to  be  careful,  he  knows  what  it  means  for  all  of 
us  if  there  is  the  slightest  suspicion  about  the  Sea- 
mew.  Glovey  will  attend  to  him,  so  will  Mac,  and 
the  crew  to  a  man  have  sworn  to  keep  everything 
secret.  Don't  worry  yourself  about  it,  Picton;  it 
will  do  no  good;  and  I  will  return  in  a  week  or 
so  to  see  how  he  is  going  on." 

"Mrs.  Yeoman  knows,"  said  Picton. 

"She  can  be  trusted,  and  it  is  better  she  should; 
it  will  prepare  her  for  his  coming,"  said  Ben. 

97 


98  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

It  was  no  use  worrying,  as  Ben  said,  and  as 
Brant  Blackett  was  anxious  to  put  the  horses 
through  the  mill,  several  trials  took  place  on  the 
moor. 

Tearaway  proved  herself  a  veritable  flyer;  she 
easily  disposed  of  the  lot  pitted  against  her,  and 
fully  bore  out  the  trainer's  opinion  of  her,  that 
she  was  as  fast  as  the  wind.  She  was  a  beautiful 
mare,  black  as  coal,  not  a  white  speck  on  her, 
and  stood  sixteen  hands  high.  No  fault  could 
be  found  with  her;  she  was  sound  in  her  wind 
and  limb,  possessed  terrific  speed  and  was  also  a 
stayer.  Blackett  idolized  her;  he  was  desperately 
cut  up  that  she  had  not  been  entered  in  any  of  the 
classic  events,  with  the  exception  of  the  St. 
Leger.  How  she  came  to  be  entered  in  the  great 
Doncaster  race  was  peculiar.  Her  breeder,  a  York- 
shire squire,  always  entered  his  youngsters  freely 
in  the  classic  races.  Somehow  Tearaway  had  been 
overlooked  until  the  last  moment  and  a  telegram 
was  sent  to  enter  the  filly  by  King  Charles — Far 
Away,  in  the  St.  Leger  only.  This  was  Tear- 
away, who  was  named  afterward. 

Picton  bought  her  at  the  sales  at  Doncaster  for 
five  hundred  guineas,  at  which  price  she  was  a 
bargain. 

She  ran  only  once  as  a  two-year-old  because 
Blackett  saw  she  was  growing  fast  and  required 


TEARAWAY  AND  OTHERS         99 

time;  to  hurry  her  thus  early  in  her  career  might, 
he  said,  ruin  her. 

Picton  was  immensely  proud  of  her,  and  desirous 
of  bringing  off  a  great  coup  by  winning  the  St. 
Leger.  It  had  been  the  Admiral's  ambition  to  win 
the  Doncaster  event,  and  more  than  once  he  had 
been  within  an  ace  of  doing  so.  Every  Yorkshire 
owner  of  horses,  on  any  pretensions  to  a  large  scale, 
is  anxious  to  win  the  Leger,  the  greatest  race  in 
the  North. 

Tearaway  was  practically  an  unknown  quantity 
and  Picton  decided  she  should  not  run  in  public 
before  September.  With  some  fillies  this  would 
have  been  a  risky  policy  to  pursue,  but  Tearaway 
was  so  quiet  and  docile  that  there  was  no  fear  of 
her  being  frightened  by  a  crowd,  no  matter  how 
large,  or  by  any  amount  of  noise.  The  trainer 
agreed  with  this  plan :  Blackett  was  quite  as  anx- 
ious to  win  a  Leger  as  his  master.  He  was  a 
Yorkshireman,  and  patriotism  was  strong  within 
him. 

Brant  Blackett  was  intended  by  his  father  for  an 
auctioneer  and  had  been  sent  to  a  local  firm  in 
Whitby.  He  hated  office  work  and  was  always 
slipping  away  and  going  out  to  sea  on  one  of  the 
fishing  boats.  The  firm  declined  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  him,  and  in  some  way  or  other 
he  drifted  to  Middleham  and  took  a  situation  in  a 


ioo  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

racing  stable.  He  was  small,  weighed  under  eight 
stone,  and  soon  learned  to  ride  well.  He  never 
rode  in  public  but  was  considered  as  good  as  the 
best  of  them  in  getting  the  strength  of  a  trial.  He 
was  recommended  to  the  Admiral,  when  he  wanted 
a  private  trainer,  and  came  to  Haverton,  where 
he  had  been  for  many  years.  He  was  much  at- 
tached to  the  family,  and  the  place,  and,  like  the 
rest  of  them,  he  was  cut  up  over  Hector  Wood- 
ridge's  trial.  He  had  won  many  races  during  the 
time  he  had  been  at  Haverton,  but  vowed  no  such 
flier  had  been  in  his  hands  as  Tearaway.  He  was 
fond  of  the  breed,  and  fond  of  the  mare,  and  she 
repaid  his  kindness  by  being  as  obedient  as  a  child. 

"She's  the  sweetest-tempered  filly  I  ever  han- 
dled," he  said.  "Her  temper's  just  lovely.  She  never 
flares  up,  or  misbehaves;  a  perfect  lady,  that's  what 
she  is." 

Everybody  who  saw  the  filly  agreed  with  him, 
and  in  the  Haverton  district  Tearaway  was  re- 
garded as  a  good  thing  for  the  St.  Leger. 

"It's  a  long  way  off  to  September,"  said  Picton 
as  he  and  Ben  sat  on  their  hacks  and  looked  at  her 
after  a  morning  gallop.  She  had  been  two  miles 
at  a  fast  pace  and  pulled  up  without  the  slightest 
sign  of  blowing".  Her  glorious  black  coat  shone  like 
satin  in  the  sunlight;  she  tossed  her  head  proudly, 


TEARAWAY  AND  OTHERS        101 

looking  round  with  intelligent  eyes  that  took  in 
all  her  surroundings. 

"No  need  to  hurry  her,"  said  the  trainer;  "and 
there's  nothing  will  happen  to  her,  I'm  sure.  A 
sounder  mare  never  stepped." 

"We  have  hardly  anything  good  enough  to  try 
her,"  said  Picton. 

"That's  a  fact,"  said  Blackett.  "It  takes  some- 
thing out  of  the  common  to  extend  her." 

There  were  a  dozen  horses  at  work,  some  can- 
tering, others  having  spins  over  five  and  six  fur- 
longs. 

As  Picton  rode  back  with  Ben  and  the  trainer  he 
said :  "What  with  one  thing  and  another  I  for- 
got to  tell  you  Mr.  Langford  is  sending  The  Rascal 
here  and  he  says  I  am  at  liberty  to  do  what  I  like 
with  him.  He's  a  real  good  'chaser,  the  same  I 
won  the  double  on  at  Torquay.  It  would  be  rather 
a  joke  if  we  won  the  St.  Leger  with  Tearaway,  and 
the  National  with  The  Rascal.  I  wonder  if  a 
trainer  ever  accomplished  that  feat?"  said  Picton, 
smiling. 

"Never  heard  of  it,"  said  Blackett;  "but  I  don't 
see  why  it  should  not  be  done.  We've  a  pretty 
good  schooling  ground  here." 

"The  Rascal  is  one  of  the  best  horses  I  have  rid- 
den over  fences.     He's  a  bit  queer-tempered,  but 


102  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

once  he  settles  down  to  his  work  you  can  depend 
upon  him  to  do  his  best,"  said  Picton. 

"Then,  if  he'll  do  that,  he  must  be  a  good  horse 
no  matter  what  his  temper  may  be,"  said  the 
trainer. 

During  the  week  The  Rascal  arrived  at  Haver- 
ton  and  the  white-faced  chestnut  created  a  favor- 
able impression. 

Picton  found  the  same  difficulty  in  mounting  him, 
but  once  in  the  saddle  all  went  well,  and  the  way 
the  horse  took  the  stiffish  fences  on  the  Haver- 
ton  schooling  ground  convinced  the  trainer  there 
was  a  good  race  in  him;  but  whether  The  Rascal 
was  up  to  National  form  was  another  matter. 

Picton  wrote  to  Dick  Langford,  stating  The  Ras- 
cal had  arrived  safely,  and  saying  he  wished  he, 
Dick,  had  come  with  him. 

When  Dick  received  this  letter  he  said  to  his 
sister:  "This  is  as  good  as  an  invitation.  I'll 
avail  myself  of  it  and  go  down  to  Haverton  for  a 
few  days.     You  don't  mind,  Rita  ?" 

"Indeed,  no;  I  think  Mr.  Woodridge  is  a  very 
good  friend,"  she  replied. 

"He  is,  and  he'll  make  a  very  decent  sort  of 
brother-in-law,"  said  Dick. 

"Don't  be  silly,"  said  Rita,  her  cheeks  glowing. 

"Is  it  silly?  Not  a  bit  of  it — you  know  it's  not. 
Picton's  fond  of  you,  and  you're  fond  of  him — 


TEARAWAY  AND  OTHERS        103 

that  ends  the  matter.     I  wonder  he  hasn't  asked 
you  before." 
"Asked  what?" 
"To  be  his  wife." 

Rita  laughed  as  she  said:  "I  think  you  spoilt 
an  opportunity  when  you  called  to  us  in  the  gar- 
den that  night.     You  remember?" 

"Yes,  I  remember,  and  I  also  recollect  I  thought 
what  a  fool  I  was  at  the  time,"  he  said. 

Picton  was  glad  when  Dick  Lang  ford  arrived  at 
Haverton;  it  gave  Ben  a  chance  to  go  back  to  the 
Sea-mew  for  a  few  days. 

Dick  always  enjoyed  a  visit  here,  and  small  won- 
der, for  such  a  lovely  place  could  not  fail  to  at- 
tract. He  was  fond  of  horses  and  Brant  Blackett 
liked  him. 

"I  hate  showing  a  fellow  round  who  pretends  he 
knows  a  heap  and  knows  nothing,"  said  the  trainer. 
"With  Mr.  Langford  it's  different;  he's  a  very  fair 
judge,  and  he's  willing  to  learn;  he's  never  cocksure 
about  anything.  He  makes  some  shrewd  remarks 
too,  and  he's  clever — yes,  I  like  Mr.  Langford; 
there's  grit  in  him." 

Mrs.  Yeoman  gave  Dick  the  hall-mark  of  her 
approval. 

"He's  a  cheerful  soul,  not  given  to  moping,  and 
he's  easily  pleased;  he  always  cheers  Mr.   Picton 


104  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

up,  and  he  wants  it  at  times — more  than  ever  now," 
she  thought. 

It  had  come  as  a  shock  to  her  when  Picton  told 
her  Hector  had  escaped  and  was  on  board  the  Sea- 
mew.  She  wondered  if  he  were  safe  there.  Picton 
told  her  Hector  would  be  so  changed  when  he  left 
the  yacht  that  no  one  would  recognize  him,  and 
that  he  would  change  his  name.  Hector  Wood- 
ridge  would  be  dead  to  the  world. 

"Unless  he  can  prove  his  innocence,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  I  wish  that  could  be  done!"  she  said. 
"Some  day  I  think  it  will  come  to  pass.  He's  in- 
nocent, I'm  sure  of  it.  Do  you  know  what  I  think, 
Mr.  Picton?" 

"No;  what  is  it?" 

"I  believe  Mrs.  Elroy  killed  her  husband." 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  Picton.  "What 
flakes  you  think  that?" 

"I  read  every  scrap  of  evidence  at  the  trial.  I 
am  almost  certain  Mr.  Hector  was  shielding  her; 
he's  just  the  sort." 

"If  your  surmise  is  correct  his  innocence  will 
never  come  to  light,  because  he  will  never  betray 
her,"  said  Picton. 

"Perhaps  not,  but  she  can't  stand  that  on  her 
conscience  forever,  she'll  have  to  confess  sooner  or 
later,  the  burden  is  more  than  any  woman  or  man 
can  bear,"  she  said. 


TEARAWAY  AND  OTHERS        105 

"She  may  have  done  it,"  said  Picton.  "Her  pun- 
ishment must  already  be  great  if  she  did." 

"If  I  were  Mr.  Hector,  I'd  seek  her  out  and  make 
her  own  up  to  it,"  she  said. 

"That's  all  very  well,  but  you  may  be  mistaken. 
In  any  case  it  is  in  Hector's  hands,  and  he  will  not 
allow  any  one  to  interfere,"  said  Picton. 


CHAPTER  XII 


I  THINK  HE  S  DEAD 


IT  was  Lenise  Elroy  who  was  supping  at  the 
Torbay  Hotel  when  Hector  Woodridge  looked 
through  the  chink  in  the  blind  and  saw  her  with  her 
friends.  The  man  who  brought  her  the  wrap  to 
put  on  her  shoulders  was  Fletcher  Denyer. 

Denyer  lived  mainly  on  his  wits.  He  was  a  dark, 
handsome  man,  about  ten  years  younger  than  Mrs. 
Elroy,  and  made  her  acquaintance  some  two  years 
back  at  a  ball  at  a  large  London  hotel.  He  was  a 
man  likely  to  attract  such  a  woman.  He  was  un- 
scrupulous; of  his  morals  the  less  said  the  better; 
he  possessed  unlimited  confidence  in  himself.  Who 
he  was,  or  where  he  came  from,  no  one  appeared 
to  know,  but  he  had  wormed  himself  into  a  cer- 
tain class  of  society,  had  become  known  on  the  race- 
course, and  in  financial  circles,  and  acted  as  a  kind 
of  tout  to  more  than  one  firm  of  wine  merchants, 
also  to  a  big  turf  commission  agent,  who  treated 
him  liberally  when  he  introduced  business.  His  ad- 
dress was  Marine  View,  Hove,  Brighton,  and  he 

1 06 


"I  THINK  HE'S  DEAD'  107 

was  frequently  to  be  seen  in  the  gay  city  by  the  sea. 

Marine  View  was  a  small  house  off  one  of  the 
main  streets,  comfortably  furnished,  and  Denyer 
was  the  sole  tenant.  Two  half  caste  servants,  a 
man  and  his  wife,  looked  after  the  place.  The 
man's  name  was  Antonio  Tobasco,  his  wife's  Lu- 
cille, and  they  knew  more  about  their  master  than 
any  one. 

Tobasco  seemed  devoted  to  Denyer;  so  did  his 
wife;  they  attended  to  his  wants,  and  looked  after 
the  house  during  his  absence.  Tobasco's  father  was 
an  Italian  emigrant  who  went  to  America  in  the 
fifties,  and  gradually  drifted  to  Mexico,  where  he 
married  a  native  woman.  Lucille's  mother  was  an 
Italian,  her  father  a  dark  man  in  the  Southern 
States.  There  was  plenty  of  black  blood  in  them, 
and  with  it  mingled  a  certain  amount  of  treachery. 
Denyer  had  lived  in  Mexico ;  it  was  here  he  became 
acquainted  with  them,  through  Lucille,  whom  at 
one  time  he  admired — it  was  his  money  gave  To- 
basco the  chance  to  marry  her,  but  the  man  did 
not  know  of  the  relations  which  at  one  time  existed 
between  Denyer  and  Lucille.  She  was  quite  con- 
tented to  marry  him,  and  the  union  had  proved  sat- 
isfactory for  several  years. 

It  was  Lucille  who  persuaded  Denyer  to  bring 
them  to  England  with  him.     At  first  he  refused, 


108  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

but  she  knew  how  to  handle  him  and  succeeded  in 
having  her  way. 

Lenise  Elroy  had  seen  Hector's  face  at  the  win- 
dow, just  a  glimpse,  but  sufficient  to  frighten  her. 
She  thought  she  recognized  him,  then  wondered  why 
she  had  been  such  a  fool;  he  was  safe  in  Dart- 
moor, and  not  likely  to  come  out  again.  At  the 
same  time  she  could  not  get  rid  of  the  impression, 
nor  could  she  make  an  excuse  for  her  sudden  alarm. 

She  came  to  Torquay  with  Denyer  at  his  re- 
quest; he  said  he  wanted  a  change,  and  her  soci- 
ety. There  was  no  question  of  love  on  his  side, 
although  Lenise  was  a  handsome  woman,  but  he 
was  to  a  certain  extent  infatuated  with  her,  and 
proud  of  being  seen  in  her  company.  What  her 
feelings  were  toward  him  she  hardly  knew.  She 
was  at  a  critical  age,  when  a  woman  sometimes 
loses  her  head  over  a  man  much  younger  than  her- 
self. She  would  have  been  very  sorry  to  lose  Den- 
yer's  friendship,  but  she  had  no  intention  of  letting 
her  inclinations  run  away  with  her  common  sense. 
She  kept  on  the  right  side,  there  was  nothing  wrong 
between  them;  they  were  familiar,  but  it  had  been 
carried  no  farther,  and  she  was  determined  to  be 
his  wife,  if  she  wished — at  present  she  did  not 
wish  it. 

She  tormented  him,  but  at  the  same  time  at- 
tracted him ;  moreover,  she  was  useful  to  him.    She 


"I  THINK  HE'S  DEAD"  109 

had  a  settled  income,  he  had  not;  occasionally  he 
found  himself  short  of  money,  hard  up.  She 
helped  him,  he  pocketed  the  cash  and  felt  grateful 
for  a  few  days.  She  did  not  despise  him  for  tak- 
ing the  money  from  her;  she  wished  to  bind  him  to 
her,  and  this  was  a  sure  way. 

It  was  during  her  brief  stay  at  Torquay  that 
Lenise  Elroy  came  across  Brack.  She  was  fond 
of  the  sea,  had  a  liking  for  rowing  in  small  boats. 

"Can't  understand  what  you  see  in  'em,"  said 
Denyer;  "beastly  cockly  things,  might  go  over  at 
any  moment." 

"Well,  I  do  like  them,  and  I'm  not  going  to  ex- 
plain why.  If  you  don't  care  to  go  out,  stay  here 
until  I  come  back;  I'm  going  to  have  a  row  round 
the  men-of-war,"  she  said. 

"Please  yourself,  but  it's  a  waste  of  time.  Why 
not  go  for  a  motor  drive  instead  ?" 

"I  prefer  the  row;  you  take  the  motor." 

"I  will.  Brady's  doing  business,  so  I'll  take  his 
wife  for  a  spin;  she's  good  company." 

"Very,"  said  Lenise.  "She's  not  at  all  a  bad 
sort." 

She  knew  very  well  Mrs.  Brady  would  not  go 
out  alone  with  him;  if  he  didn't  know  it,  he  was 
not  quite  so  wide  awake  as  she  imagined. 

She  went  to  the  harbor,  and,  seeing  Brack,  took 
a  fancy  to  him. 


no  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Want  to  go  for  a  row  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  round  the  warships." 

"I'm  yer  man.  I  get  a  lot  of  patronage  from 
ladies;  they're  safe  with  me,  I'm  a  steady  goin' 
old  W" 

He  took  his  blackened  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and 
slipped  it  into  his  pocket. 

"This  is  my  boat,  The  Dart/'  he  said.  "Wait 
till  I  put  the  cushion  right  for  you." 

She  got  in.  Brack  thought  what  a  handsome 
woman  she  was. 

He  was  about  to  push  off  when  he  looked  up  and 
saw  Carl  Hackler. 

"So  yer  here  still,  messin'  about!  Wonder  yer 
not  tired  of  it,"  he  said. 

"I  am,"  said  Carl.  "Dead  tired  of  it!  Nothing 
can  be  done  here.     My  belief  is  he's  dead." 

"And  mine  too ;  he  couldn't  have  stood  it  all  this 
time,  wandering  about  the  moor,"  Brack  said. 

When  they  were  out  in  the  bay  she  asked : 

"Who  is  dead?    What  were  you  talking  about?" 

"It's  a  long  story,  mum,  a  sad  story;  I  don't 
suppose  it  would  interest  you." 

"Who  was  that  man  on  the  quay?"  she  asked. 

"He's  from  Dartmoor,  from  the  prison^'  said 
Brack. 

He  did  not  see  the  look  of  interest  on  h*t  face 
as  he  spoke. 


"I  THINK  HE'S  DEAD"  in 

"A  warder?"  she  asked. 

"Not  exactly  that;  I  fancy  he's  one  of  the  fel- 
lows turned  on  for  special  duty  at  times." 

"And  what  is  he  doing  at  Torquay?" 

"A  week  or  so  back  a  man  escaped  from  Dart- 
moor prison.  They've  not  caught  him  yet;  it's  my 
opinion  they  never  will,"  he  answered  with  a 
chuckle. 

She  felt  that  peculiar  feeling  come  over  that  she 
experienced  when  she  fancied  she  saw  Hector's  face 
looking  through  the  window  of  the  hotel. 

"What  nonsense !"  she  thought.  "There  are 
hundreds  of  prisoners  there;  why  should  he  be  the 
one  to  escape?" 

She  was  restless,  all  the  same,  and  wished  Brack 
would  tell  her  more. 

"I  suppose  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  pris- 
oner to  escape?"  she  asked. 

"No;  they  do  a  bolt  sometimes.  They're  gen- 
erally caught  inside  twenty-four  hours." 

"But  this  man  is  not  taken?" 

"No,  and  Hackler's  been  mooning  about  Tor- 
quay looking  for  him  for  a  week,  just  as  though 
the  fellow  would  be  likely  to  come  here,"  said 
Brack. 

"I  wonder  who  he  was?" 

"Don't  know,  but  he  was  a  good  plucked  "un," 


112  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

said  Brack,  and  proceeded  to  tell  her  all  about  the 
throttling  of  the  hound. 

"He  must  be  a  very  desperate  character,"  she 
said. 

"It's  enough  to  make  a  man  desperate,"  said 
Brack. 

"What  was  he  in  prison  for?"  she  asked. 

"Murder,  so  I've  heard,"  said  Brack. 

She  started. 

"What  murder,  where?" 

"Somewhere  up  in  Yorkshire,  I  believe,"  said 
Brack,  who  was  now  watching  her.  He  saw  her 
turn  pale  and  clutch  the  side  of  the  boat  with  one 
hand. 

"Takes  an  uncommon  interest  in  it,"  he  thought. 
"Wonder  who  she  is?" 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  the  murder — the 
trial  I  mean?  You  come  from  Yorkshire,  do  you 
not — I  can  tell  by  your  accent,"  she  said  with  a 
faint  attempt  at  a  smile. 

"Yes,  I'm  fra  Yorkshire,"  said  Brack.  "Used  to 
be  at  Scarborough  some  years  ago." 

"I  come  from  Yorkshire  too,"  she  said.  "I  re- 
member some  years  ago  there  was  a  celebrated  trial 
there,  a  murder  case,  the  man  who  was  convicted 
shot  the  husband  of  some  lady  he  had  been  com- 
promised with.  It  was  a  very  sad  case,  a  very  old 
Yorkshire  family,  I  forget  the  name,  it  was  Wood 


"I  THINK  HE'S  DEAD''  113 

something — oh,  I  have  it,  Woodridge,  that's  it. 
Do  you  recollect  it?" 

Brack  was  on  the  alert.  She  knew  a  good  deal 
more  about  it  than  she  pretended;  he  was  sure  of 
it.     Who  was  she? 

"I  remember  it;  most  folks  up  our  way  will  re- 
member it  to  their  dying  day,"  he  said. 

"Why?" 

"Because  no  one  believed  him  guilty." 

"But  he  was  found  guilty  and  sentenced." 

"Many  an  innocent  man  suffers  for  another's 
crime,"  said  Brack. 

"Perhaps  it  was  this  man  who  escaped,"  she 
said. 

"If  it  were,  the  poor  fellow's  dead  by  now,"  said 
Brack.  "They  did  say  at  the  time  it  was  the  woman, 
the  wife,  that  got  him  into  his  trouble.  Women's 
generally  at  the  bottom  of  these  things.  I  be- 
lieve she  was  a  mighty  fine  woman  too;  but  she 
must  have  been  wicked." 

Lenise  was  restless. 

"Don't  you  think  we  had  better  put  back?"  she 
said. 

"I  thought  you  wanted  to  row  round  the  men-o'- 
war,"  he  said 

"It  is  too  far;  I  want  to  be  back  for  lunch." 

"Shall  I  turn  round?" 

"Yes,  please." 


ii4  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Do  you  think  they'll  catch  the  man  who  es- 
caped?" she  asked  before  they  reached  the  landing 
steps. 

"I  think  he's  dead  or  they'd  have  got  him  afore 
now,"  said  Brack. 

She  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  as  she  handed  him 
half  a  sovereign. 

"I  haven't  got  any  change,"  said  Brack. 

"You  can  keep  that;  you  interested  me  in  your 
conversation.  What  did  you  say  was  the  name  of 
the  man  from  the  prison?" 

"Carl  Hackler,"  said  Brack. 

"Thank  you;  if  I  wish  to  go  out  again  I  will  take 
your  boat." 

"Very  good,  my  lady,  always  at  your  service," 
said  Brack;  adding  to  himself,  "I'd  like  to  find  out 
who  she  is,  and  why  she's  so  mighty  interested  in 
it  all." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

a  woman's  fear 

LENISE  ELROY  was  troubled;  she  felt  un- 
easy, afraid  of  something,  she  hardly  knew 
what ;  she  had  a  presentiment  that  a  calamity  hung 
over  her,  that  much  trouble  was  in  store. 

Fletcher  Denyer  was  irritated.  She  was  not  at 
all  like  the  gay  woman  of  a  few  days  back;  what 
ailed  her?  He  questioned  her,  received  no  satis- 
factory reply. 

"I  want  to  go  to  town,"  he  said. 

"I  don't;  I  like  being  here." 

"But  I  must  return  to  London,  I  have  a  lot  of 
business  to  see  to." 

She  smiled;  when  he  talked  about  business  it 
amused  her. 

He  noticed  it  and  said  angrily :  "You  never  think 
I  do  anything  in  the  way  of  business." 

"I  judge  by  results,"  she  answered. 

"And  I  don't  show  any,  is  that  it?" 

She  nodded. 

"Look  here,  Len,  we've  been  together  for  a  couple 
US 


n6  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

of  years  and  been  good  friends;  we  don't  want  to 
quarrel  now." 

"I'm  sure  I've  no  wish  to  do  so." 

"There's  a  good  deal  more  in  me  than  you  imag- 
ine. Why  didn't  you  speculate  in  those  Mexican 
shares  I  told  you  about?     You'd  have  made  a  pile." 

"I  should;  you  were  right  in  that  instance.  It 
has  always  struck  me  you  know  a  good  deal  about 
Mexico." 

"Perhaps  I  do;  it's  a  great  country,  I'm  told." 

"I  suppose  you  kave  not  been  there?"  she  said. 

"If  I  had,  I  should  probably  be  better  off." 

"If  you  must  go  to  London,  go.  I'll  follow  in 
a  few  days,"  she  said. 

"You  seem  to  have  suddenly  taken  an  interest  in 
the  place." 

"I  have,  I  like  it.  It  is  my  first  visit.  I  think  it 
beautiful,"  she  said. 

He  wondered  why  she  wished  to  remain,  but  did 
not  question  her  further.  In  the  afternoon  he  went 
to  London.  She  was  glad  to  be  alone ;  she  wanted 
to  be  quiet  and  think.  Supposing  Hector  Wood- 
ridge  had  escaped  from  Dartmoor,  and  was  not 
dead,  what  would  happen?  What  would  he  do  to 
her?  She  trembled,  felt  faint;  there  was  no  tell- 
ing to  what  lengths  such  a  man  infuriated  at  the 
cruelty  and  misery  he  had  suffered,  might  go.     She 


A  WOMAN'S  FEAR  117 

must  find  out  more  about  it.  The  man  to  see  was 
Carl  Hackler,  but  how  to  approach  him  ? 

She  meant  to  converse  with  him  at  any  cost,  and 
went  out  with  that  intention. 

Carl  had  nothing  to  do  but  idle  time  away;  he 
was  quite  certain  the  prisoner  had  either  got  clear 
off,  or  was  lying  dead  on  the  moor.  He  saw  Mrs. 
Elroy  coming  toward  him,  and  recognized  her  as 
the  lady  Brack  had  taken  out  in  his  boat.  She  evi- 
dently intended  speaking  to  him. 

"You  are  Mr.  Hackler,  I  believe?"  she  asked. 

"I  am;  at  your  service." 

"The  boatman  told  me  who  you  were.  You  come 
from  the  prison  at  Dartmoor?" 

"I  do." 

"A  man  has  escaped,  I  want  to  know  more  about 
it.  The  boatman  gave  me  to  understand  he  was 
tried  for  murder  in  Yorkshire  some  years  ago.  If 
this  is  the  man  who  escaped  I  know  him,  I  know 
the  family,"  she  said. 

"What  name?"  asked  Hackler. 

"Woodridge.     Hector  Woodridge,"  she  said. 

"I  believe  it's  the  same  man,"  said  Hackler,  in- 
terested. 

"Will  he  be  caught?" 

"If  he's  alive  he's  sure  to  be  taken." 

"But  you  think  it  probable  he  is  dead?"  she  ques- 
tioned. 


n8  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"I  think  it  quite  possible." 

"Are  you  here  on  the  lookout  for  him?" 

"Yes." 

"Surely  he  would  not  be  likely  to  come  to  Tor- 
quay." 

"I  don't  know  so  much  about  that.  You  see  he 
might  be  able  to  get  away  by  sea  if  he  had  friends, 
or  some  one  willing  to  help  him,"  said  Hackler. 

"Who  would  help  him?  The  risk  would  be  too 
great." 

"There's  many  men  take  risks  for  each  other. 
You  seem  interested  in  him." 

"I  am.  I  know  him,  a  dangerous  man,  I  should 
not  care  to  meet  him  again,"  she  said. 

"He  had  not  that  reputation  at  Dartmoor.  He 
was  quiet  and  inoffensive,  about  the  last  man  we'd 
have  thought  would  try  to  escape,"  he  said. 

"And  you  have  no  doubt  he  is  Hector  Wood- 
ridge?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  there's  much  doubt  about 
that;  in  fact  none  at  all.  It  is  improbable  he  will 
meet  you  again.  Even  if  he  has  got  away  he'll  go 
out  of  the  country  into  some  safe  hiding-place;  he's 
not  likely  to  roam  about  England,"  he  said. 

She  thanked  him,  asked  him  to  accept  a  sover- 
eign, which  he  did  not  refuse. 

Carl  Hackler  watched  her  as  she  walked  away; 


A  WOMAN'S  FEAR  119 

she  looked   stately,  carried  herself  well,   what  he 
called  a  "stunner." 

Carl  wondered  why  she  was  so  anxious  to  find 
out  who  the  escaped  prisoner  was.  She  must  have 
some  personal  interest  in  him;  she  did  not  seem 
like  a  woman  who  wasted  her  time  over  trifles.  He 
determined  to  see  Brack  and  hear  what  he  had  to 
say  about  the  lady.  He  had  a  good  deal  of  regard 
for  Brack,  also  a  shrewd  idea  that  in  some  way 
or  another  the  boatman  had  the  better  of  him. 

Brack  was  nothing  loath  to  chat  when  Carl 
came  up. 

"All  the  ladies  seem  fond  of  you,  Brack,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  don't  say  as  they're  not;  I  often  has 
ladies  in  my  boat,"  he  said. 

"Rather  a  smart  woman  you  took  out  to-day." 

"A  very  pretty  craft,  built  on  fine  lines,"  said 
Brack. 

"I've  had  a  talk  with  her.  She's  interested  in 
the  man  I'm  on  the  lookout  for." 

"Is  she?" 

"You  know  she  is.  Didn't  she  speak  about  him 
when  you  took  her  out?" 

"Maybe  she  did,  maybe  she  didn't." 

Carl  laughed. 

"You're  a  sly  old  sea  dog,"  he  said.  "Now 
Brack,  listen  to  me.  That  lady  is  interested  in 
Hector  Woodridge,  No.  832 ;  that's  his  name,  cer- 


120  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

tain  of  it,  no  mistake.  Another  thing,  she's  afraid 
of  him;  afraid  he'll  do  her  some  bodily  harm  if  he 
comes  across  her.  Now  why  should  he?  There 
must  be  some  good  reason." 

"Afraid  of  him,  is  she?  By  gad,  I  thought  the 
same  thing." 

"Then  you  talked  about  him  in  the  boat?" 

"Yes,  that's  so." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"Not  much ;  she  knew  the  family,  his  family, 
knew  all  about  the  trial." 

"Did  she  now?     What  was  the  woman  like?" 

"Which  woman?" 

"The  wife  of  the  man  Woodridge  shot." 

Brack  was  thoughtful. 

"What  yer  drivin'  at,  Carl,  my  boy?" 

"I've  got  a  kind  of  notion  she  must  have  been 
mixed  up  in  the  case,"  said  Carl. 

"There  was  only  one  woman  in  it — the  wife," 
said  Brack.  "Gosh!"  he  exclaimed,  and  looked  at 
Carl  with  a  startled  expression. 

"Well?"  said  Carl. 

"I  thought  I'd  seen  her  face  somewhere  afore, 
pictures  of  her,  photos,  or  something." 

"Yes;  go  on." 

"I  may  be  mistaken ;  I'd  not  like  to  say  as  much 
without  being  certain." 

"You  can  trust  me;  it  shall  go  no  farther." 


A  WOMAN'S  FEAR  121 

"She's  like  the  wife,  the  woman  whose  husband 
he  shot,"  said  Brack. 

"You've  hit  it,"  said  Carl.  "That  accounts  for 
it;  she  is  the  woman,  no  doubt." 

"Don't  hurry;  it  may  be  only  a  likeness." 

"You'd  not  have  remembered  it  if  she'd  not  been 
the  woman,"  said  Carl.  "It's  stuck  in  your  mem- 
ory." 

"If  she's  the  one,  no  wonder  she's  afraid  to  meet 
him — he'd  do  for  her." 

"I  don't  think  so.  He  must  have  been  precious 
fond  of  her,  or  he'd  never  have  done  time  for  her." 

"Come  home  with  me  and  have  a  talk,"  said 
Brack,  and  Carl  went. 

Mrs.  Elroy  found  it  slow  at  night,  but  her 
thoughts  were  busy.  She  was  restless,  ate  very 
little  dinner,  hardly  spoke  to  Mrs.  Brady,  or  her 
husband,  and  left  them  as  soon  as  she  could  de- 
cently do  so. 

"Seems  out  of  sorts,"  said  Brady. 

"Fletcher  Denyer  has  gone  to  town,"  was  Mrs. 
Brady's  comment,  and  she  spoke  as  though  that  ex- 
plained everything. 

"Do  you  think  she's  fond  of  him?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  but  she  hardly  knows  it." 

"Is  he  fond  of  her?" 

"He's  not  in  love  with  her;  he's  infatuated,  that's 


122  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

all.  Lenise  has  a  way  with  the  men  that's  hard  to 
resist,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Elroy,  for  want  of  something  better  to  do, 
looked  over  some  back  copies  of  the  Torquay  Times, 
and  came  across  an  account  of  the  races.  She  saw 
Picton  Woodridge  had  ridden  four  winners,  which 
surprised  her  not  a  little ;  she  had  not  seen  him  for 
years,  had  no  desire  to  meet  him. 

Then  she  read  about  the  escape  from  Dartmoor; 
there  was  not  much  about  it,  she  gleaned  very  lit- 
tle fresh  information. 

A  paragraph  that  attracted  her  close  attention  was 
about  Picton  Woodridge's  yacht,  the  Sea-mew.  A 
description  of  it  was  given  and  at  the  end  it  stated, 
"She  left  the  bay  during  the  night,  her  departure 
was  rather  unexpected." 

Picton  Woodridge's  yacht  in  Torbay  at  the  time 
Hector  escaped  from  Dartmoor.  Was  this  a  co- 
incidence, or  was  it  part  of  a  well-laid  plan?  She 
shivered,  felt  cold,  a  chill  passed  over  her.  She 
rang  the  bell  and  ordered  a  brandy;  this  put  new 
life  into  her  for  the  moment.  Her  brain  worked 
actively;  she  was  piecing  things  together.  The 
Sea-mew  left  in  the  night  unexpectedly.  Why? 
Had  Hector  Woodridge  contrived  to  board  her? 
Had  Picton  and  Captain  Ben  Bruce  helped  him? 

The  thought  tormented  her,  she  could  not  sleep, 
she  tossed  uneasily  on  her  bed. 


A  WOMAN'S  FEAR  123 

"He's  dead !  Hackler  says  so,  the  boatman  says 
so;  he  could  not  live  on  the  moor.  It  is  impos- 
sible. How  could  he  reach  the  Sea-mew?  Sup- 
posing he  seeks  me  out,  what  would  he  do?" 

A  cold  perspiration  broke  out  over  her  body. 

"He'd  kill  me  if  I  didn't  speak,"  she  said  with 
a  shudder. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


NOT    RECOGNIZED 


THE  Sea-mew  cruised  about  from  one  place  to 
another  and  Hector  Woodridge  recovered 
his  health  and  strength ;  but  he  was  a  changed  man. 
Even  Picton  thought  it  difficult  to  recognize  him; 
he  would  not  have  done  so  had  he  met  him  in  the 
street. 

Captain  Ben  said:  "It  is  quite  safe  for  you  to 
go  ashore.  You  are  supposed  to  be  dead ;  you  must 
take  another  name." 

"William  Rolfe — how  will  that  do?"  said  Hec- 
tor. 

"As  good  as  any  other,"  said  Picton.  "We'll 
test  it  You  come  to  Haverton  as  William  Rolfe 
to  look  at  the  horses,  and  if  Sarah  Yeoman  and 
Blackett  don't  recognize  you  it  will  be  proof  posi- 
tive there  is  no  danger." 

It  was  early  in  August  when  Hector  Woodridge, 
as  William  Rolfe,  came  to  Haverton.  Mrs.  Yeo- 
man did  not  recognize  him,  nor  did  the  trainer, 
although  the  former  thought  his  face  familiar. 

124 


NOT  RECOGNIZED  125 

The  change  in  Hector  was  extraordinary.  Not 
only  was  his  appearance  entirely  different,  but  his 
voice,  manner,  everything  about  him  was  that  of 
another  man. 

Mrs.  Yeoman  and  Blackett  were  not  enlightened 
as  to  his  identity.  Hector  was  glad  they  did  not 
recognize  him ;  he  was  careful  to  give  them  no  clue 
to  his  identity,  although  occasionally  when  off  his 
guard  he  almost  betrayed  himself  by  showing  his 
knowledge  of  the  house  and  its  surroundings.  Amos 
Kidd,  the  head  gardener,  as  he  saw  him  walking 
about,  thought:  "He  must  have  been  here  before, 
but  I  don't  recollect  seeing  him." 

It  was  a  sore  trial  to  him  to  come  back  to  the 
old  home  as  a  stranger.  Everything  revived  rec- 
ollections of  the  misery  he  had  caused,  and  of  the 
Admiral's  death,  and  at  last  these  became  so  vivid 
and  painful  that  he  told  Picton  he  could  stand  it 
no  longer. 

"I  shall  go  mad  if  I  stay  here,"  he  said.  "I 
must  get  away." 

"Where  will  you  go?"  asked  Picton. 

"To  London  for  a  time ;  it  is  a  safe  place — such 
a  vast  crowd — and  probably  I  am  forgotten  at  Dart- 
moor. There  is  an  advantage  in  being  dead,  is 
there  not?"  he  said,  smiling  grimly. 

"Perhaps  it  will  be  for  the  best.  In  London  you 
will   see   so  many   sights,   your  attention   will   be 


126  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

taken  away  from  the  past.  I  quite  understand  how 
you  feel  about  Haverton,  but  you  will  grow  out  of 
it  in  time,"  said  Picton. 

"Never;  at  least  not  until  my  innocence  is 
proved." 

"You  think  it  will  be?" 

"Yes,  it  must;  I  mean  to  prove  it." 

"How?" 

"Leave  that  to  me.  I  have  a  plan  which  may 
prove  successful,  but  it  will  be  risky;  everything 
will  depend  on  the  first  bold  step." 

"Don't  rush  into  danger,"  said  Picton.  "Where's 
the  use?  You  may  fail;  you  may  be  recognized; 
and  then,  think  what  would  follow." 

"You  fear  I  might  be  sent  back  to  prison,"  he 
said,  smiling.  "There  is  no  fear  of  that.  I  prom- 
ise you  I  will  never  go  back  to  Dartmoor." 

"You  must  have  all  the  money  you  require,  Hec- 
tor," said  his  brother. 

"I  shall  want  money;  there  is  plenty  for  both." 

"Ample;  it  costs  a  lot  to  keep  up  Haverton,  but 
half  of  what  I  have  is  yours. " 

"Too  generous,  Pic;  you  always  were.  I  shall 
not  want  half,  nothing  like  it.  Place  a  few  thou- 
sands to  my  credit  in  a  London  bank." 

"That  would  not  be  safe.  I  will  draw  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  in  notes,  and  you  can  use  it  as  you 
think  best,"  said  Picton. 


NOT  RECOGNIZED  127 

"Very  well.  That  is  a  large  sura,  but  I  shall 
probably  require  it.  The  scheme  I  have  in  my  mind 
will  cost  money,  a  lot  of  it,  but  I'd  sacrifice  all  I 
have  to  prove  my  innocence,"  said  Hector. 

"And  I  will  help  you.  I  want  to  keep  up  Hav- 
erton,  but  you  shall  have  the  rest.  I'll  tell  you 
what,  Hector,  I'm  going  to  back  Tearaway  to  win 
a  fortune  in  the  St.  Leger.  Already  money  is  go- 
ing on  at  forty  to  one;  I  may  get  a  thousand  on 
at  that  price,  perhaps  more,"  said  Picton. 

"I'd  like  to  see  her  have  a  spin  before  I  leave," 
said  Hector. 

"And  you  shall.  Blackett  has  obtained  permis- 
sion from  Sir  Robert  Raines  to  use  his  famous  Cup 
horse  Tristram  in  a  trial  gallop.  The  horse  will  be 
here  to-morrow,  and  we  can  put  them  together  with 
one  or  two  more  the  next  morning.  Sir  Robert 
is  coming  over  to  see  it.  He  takes  a  great  interest 
in  her;  he  owns  her  sire  King  Charles." 

"Sir  Robert  coming?"  said  Hector  doubtfully. 

"He'll  never  recognize  you — no  one  would,  not 
even " 

Picton  pulled  himself  up  short.  He  had  spoken 
unthinkingly  and  stopped  just  in  time;  but  Hector 
was  not  satisfied. 

"Not  even — whom  did  you  mean  ?"  he  asked. 

"Never  mind  ;  it  was  a  slip ;  I  forgot." 

"Lenise  Elroy?"  asked  Hector  calmly. 


1128  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Yes,  I  thought  of  her." 

"And  you  think  she,  even  that  woman,  would 
not  recognize  me?" 

"I  am  certain  she  would  not.  She  might  have 
done  so  when  you  escaped,  but  not  now.  Your 
illness  has  changed  you  in  a  very  strange  way.  I 
can  hardly  believe  you  are  Hector  sometimes,"  said 
Picton. 

"Then  I  must  be  safe,"  he  said,  smiling.  "Speak- 
ing of  Mrs.  Elroy,"  he  went  on,  "did  I  tell  you  I 
saw  her  in  Torquay?" 

"No,"  said  Picton  surprised.  "Where?  Are 
you  sure?" 

"I  was  passing  a  hotel  when  something  prompted 
me  to  cross  the  road  and  look  in  at  the  window.  I 
saw  her  seated  at  the  supper  table,  laughing  gayly 
with  people,  a  man  beside  her,  probably  her  lover, 
he  seemed  infatuated  with  her.  She  is  still  very 
beautiful,  the  same  luring  smile,  and  eyes  like  stars; 
you  can  imagine  how  I  felt.  The  sight  was  too 
much  for  me,  as  I  contrasted  her  position  with  mine. 
I  raised  my  hands  and  appealed  to  God  for  justice. 
My  prayer  was  answered,  for  a  little  farther  on, 
as  I  staggered  down  the  road,  I  came  across  that 
great-hearted  fellow  Brack.     You  know  the  rest." 

"Yes,  I  know  the  rest,"  said  Picton. 

They  were  in  the  study  and  could  talk  freely.  No 
one  ventured  in  except  Captain  Ben,  and  he  came 


NOT  RECOGNIZED  129 

at  this  moment.  He  saw  something  serious  was 
going  on;  shutting  the  door  quietly  he  sat  down. 

"Hector  is  going  away,  to  London.  He  can't 
stand  the  associations  at  Haverton.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at,"  said  Picton. 

"I'm  surprised  he  stood  it  so  long;  I  know  what 
it  must  have  cost  him.  You're  brave,  Hector,  far 
braver  than  we  are.  By  God,  you're  a  man  if  ever 
there  was  one!"  said  Ben  in  his  straight  manner. 

"A  man  can  bear  far  more  than  he  imagines. 
Torture  of  the  mind  is  greater  than  torture  of  the 
body,"  said  Hector. 

"You're  right,  no  doubt,"  said  Ben.  "But  why 
London,  why  go  there?" 

"I  have  my  reasons;  they  are  powerful.  On 
board  the  Sea-mew  I  laid  my  plans;  I  think  I  shall 
succeed,"  said  Hector. 

"Would  you  like  Ben  to  go  with  you?"  asked  Pic- 
ton. 

"No — he'd  be  too  merciful,"  said  Hector  calmly. 

They  looked  at  him;  he  spoke  quietly,  but  there 
was  that  in  his  voice  and  face  boded  ill  for  some- 
body. 

"When  are  you  going?"  asked  Ben. 

"After  Tearaway  has  had  her  trial  with  Tris- 
tram," said  Hector. 

"That  will  be  worth  seeing,"  said  Ben. 


130  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"And  the  filly  will  beat  Sir  Robert's  horse,"  said 
Picton. 

"I  doubt  it,"  said  Ben.  "Think  what  he's  done, 
and  Ascot  Cup  winner,  Doncaster  Cup  Cesarewitch, 
Metropolitan,  Northumberland  Plate — he  must  be 
the  best  stayer  in  England." 

"So  he  is,"  said  Picton,  "but  Tearaway  will  beat 
him  for  speed  at  the  finish.  Blackett  says  he'll  put 
them  together  over  two  miles,  with  only  seven 
pounds  between  them.  I  suggested  level  weights 
but  he  doesn't  want  to  take  the  heart  out  of  her." 

"If  she  can  beat  Tristram  at  seven  pounds  she's 
the  best  filly  ever  seen,"  said  Ben. 

"And  I  believe  she  is,"  was  Picton's  enthusiastic 
comment. 

Hector  Woodridge  sat  in  his  room,  when  every- 
thing was  still  in  the  house,  and  thought  over  his 
plans.  No  one  recognized  him,  Picton  said  even 
Lenise  Elroy  would  not  recognize  him;  so  much 
the  better,  for  he  had  dealings  with  her. 

How  he  hated  this  woman,  who  had  fooled  him 
to  the  top  of  his  bent  and  done  him  so  great  an 
injury!  She  must  suffer.  Did  she  suffer  now? 
She  must,  there  was  some  sort  of  conscience  in  her. 
Her  beauty  appealed  to  him  once;  never  would  it 
do  so  again.  She  knew  he  was  innocent,  the  only 
person  who  did,  and  he  intended  wringing  a  con- 
fession from  her. 


NOT  RECOGNIZED  131 

Fortunately  he  had  money.  His  brother  was 
generous,  and  offered  him  more  than  he  had  a  right 
to  expect;  he  would  make  it  up  to  him  some  day, 
when  he  had  completed  the  work  he  intended. 

There  was  a  man  on  Dartmoor,  and  there  was 
Brack:  they  must  be  rewarded  for  their  kindness, 
for  the  help  they  had  given  him.  And  there  was 
that  gracious  lady  who  assisted  him  as  he  tramped 
to  Torquay.  He  had  not  forgotten  her  face,  it  was 
engraven  on  his  memory.  He  was  thinking  of  her 
now,  how  she  gave  him  the  coat,  the  boots,  food, 
and  spoke  kindly  to  him.  When  times  were  changed, 
and  his  work  done,  he  would  seek  her  out  again 
and  thank  her.  His  heart  warmed  toward  her;  he 
contrasted  her  purity  with  that  of  the  other  woman, 
and  wondered  how  he  could  have  been  caught  in 
Lenise  Elroy's  toils. 

Elroy  was  a  weak-minded,  foolish  fellow;  she 
married  him  for  his  money.  He  recalled  his  first 
meeting  with  her;  they  were  mutually  attracted,  and 
so  it  went  on  and  on,  from  bad  to  worse,  until  the 
end,  when  the  fatal  shot  was  fired. 

And  since  then  ?  He  could  not  bear  to  think  of 
it  all.  He  vowed  Lenise  Elroy  should  pay  the  pen- 
alty as  he  had,  that  her  tortures  of  mind  should 
equal  his;  then  she  would  know  what  he  had  suf- 
fered; no,  not  a  tenth  part  of  it;  but  even  that  would 
overwhelm  her. 


CHAPTER  XV 
"the  st.  leger's  in  your  pocket" 

TRISTRAM  arrived  at  Haverton;  Sir  Robert 
Raines  came  the  same  day ;  everything  was  in 
readiness  for  the  trial  next  morning. 

Sir  Robert  was  a  great  racing  man,  came  of  a 
sporting  family,  had  a  fine  seat  about  forty  miles 
from  Haverton,  called  Beaumont  Hall,  where  he 
kept  a  stud  of  horses  and  about  thirty  or  forty 
racers.  He  was  well  known  as  a  plunger,  and  had 
landed  some  big  stakes ;  occasionally  he  was  hard  hit, 
but  so  far  the  balance  had  been  on  the  right  side. 
He  and  the  Woodridges  had  been  friends  for  years ; 
he  had  known  the  Admiral  and  admired  him.  He 
had  also  known  Raoul  Elroy  and  his  wife,  and  been 
present  at  Hector's  trial,  on  the  grand  jury,  and 
after.  Sir  Robert  was  loath  to  believe  Hectoi 
guilty,  but  on  the  evidence  could  arrive  at  no  other 
conclusion.  The  result  of  the  trial  made  no  differ- 
ence in  his  friendship  with  the  Admiral  and  Picton ; 
when  the  former  died  he  helped  his  son  to  the  best 
of  his  ability.  He  had  a  great  liking  for  Captain 
Ben,  which  was  returned. 

132 


"ST.  LEGER'S  IN  YOUR  POCKET"     133 

It  was  a  critical  moment  when  Hector  was  intro- 
duced to  him  as  William  Rolfe,  "a  friend  of  mine 
from  Devonshire,"  said  Picton. 

Sir  Robert  shook  hands  with  him;  it  was  easy 
to  see  he  had  no  idea  it  was  Hector  Woodridge, 
and  all  breathed  more  freely. 

"So  you  imagine  you've  got  the  winner  of  the 
St.  Leger  at  Haverton,  eh,  Pic?"  he  said  as  they  sat 
smoking  after  dinner. 

"It's  more  than  imagination.  I  think  Tearaway 
is  the  best  filly  I  ever  saw;  so  does  Blackett;  he 
says  she's  as  fast  as  the  wind,"  said  Picton. 

"Is  she?  The  wind  blows  at  a  pretty  pace  over 
the  wolds  sometimes,  sixty  miles  an  hour  or  more ; 
she's  not  quite  up  to  that,"  said  Sir  Robert. 

"No,  not  quite,"  laughed  Picton;  "but  she  has 
a  rare  turn  of  speed,  and  can  stay  as  long  as  she's 
wanted." 

"I  haven't  seen  her  for  some  time,"  he  said. 

"She's  improved  a  lot,  a  real  beauty;  I'm  sure 
you  will  say  so.  You  ought  to  back  her  to  win  a 
good  stake." 

"I'm  told  Ripon  will  win.  They  fancy  him  a  lot 
at  Newmarket;  they  also  think  he  had  bad  luck  to 
lose  the  Derby." 

"Suppose  Tearaway  beats  Tristram  in  the  morn- 
ing at  seven  pounds  difference?"  said  Picton. 


i,34  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"It  will  be  the  biggest  certainty  for  the  St.  Leger 
ever  known,"  said  Sir  Robert. 

Hector  joined  in  the  conversation.  Sir  Robert 
liked  him,  but  no  look  or  word  reminded  him  of 
Hector  Woodridge. 

"I'm  safe,"  thought  Hector.  "Sir  Robert  ought 
to  have  been  one  of  the  first  to  recognize  me." 

Next  morning  they  were  all  on  the  moor  early. 
Four  horses  were  to  take  part  in  the  trial :  Tris- 
tram, Tearaway,  Rodney  and  Admiral,  and  the  filly 
was  giving  weight  to  all  except  Sir  Robert's  great 
horse. 

"By  jove,  she  has  grown  into  a  beauty!"  ex- 
claimed the  baronet  when  he  saw  the  beautiful  black 
filly  with  Fred  Erickson,  the  popular  Yorkshire 
jockey,  in  the  saddle.  Erickson  lived  at  Haverton 
village,  but  was  not  often  at  home,  as  he  had  an 
enormous  amount  of  riding,  going  to  scale  under 
eight  stone  easily. 

"Good  morning,  Fred,"  said  Sir  Robert.  "You're 
on  a  nice  filly." 

"She  is,  Sir  Robert;  one  of  the  best." 

"Can  she  beat  Tristram?     You've  ridden  him." 

"I  wouldn't  go  so  far  as  that,  but  she'll  give  him 
a  good  race,"  said  the  jockey. 

Abel  Dent  came  from  Beaumont  Hall  to  ride 
Tristram  in  the  gallop.  He  was  always  on  the 
horse's  back  in  his  work  and  knew  him  thoroughly. 


"ST.  LEGER'S  IN  YOUR  POCKET"     135 

"You'll  have  to  keep  him  going,  Abe,"  said  Sir 
Robert,  smiling. 

"I'll  keep  'em  all  going,"  was  the  confident  reply. 

Rodney  and  Admiral  were  more  than  useful ;  the 
latter  was  to  bring  them  along  for  the  last  mile,  it 
was  his  favorite  distance. 

Brant  Blackett  greeted  them  as  he  rode  up  on  his 
cob.  He  was  brimful  of  confidence  as  to  the  result 
of  the  spin.  He  set  Tearaway  to  give  Rodney  and 
Admiral  a  stone  each. 

"I'll  send  them  down  to  the  two-mile  post,"  he 
said. 

"This  is  the  best  long  gallop  anywhere,  I  should 
say,"  said  Sir  Robert.  "I  often  envy  it  you,  Pic, 
my  boy.  Fancy  four  miles  straight — it's  wonder- 
ful." 

It  was  indeed  a  glorious  sight.  The  moor 
stretched  away  for  miles,  undulating,  until  it  was 
lost  in  the  hill  in  the  distance.  The  training  ground 
had  been  reclaimed  from  it,  snatched  from  its  all- 
devouring  grasp,  and  been  perfected  at  great  ex- 
pense. Beside  the  somber  brown  of  the  wild  moor- 
land it  looked  a  brilliant,  dazzling  green. 

Haverton  Moor  harbored  vast  numbers  of  birds, 
and  the  grouse  shooting  was  among  the  best  in 
Yorkshire.  Picton  Woodridge  owned  the  moor;  it 
was  not  profitable,  but  he  loved  it,  and  would  soon- 
er have  parted  with  fertile  farms  than  one  acre  of 


136  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

this  brown  space.  It  was  not  dull  this  morning; 
the  sun  touched  everything,  and  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  see  there  were  billows  of  purple,  brown,  green, 
yellow,  and  tinges  of  red.  A  haze  hung  over  it 
when  they  arrived,  but  gradually  floated  away  like 
gossamer  and  disappeared  into  space.  The  air  was 
bracing;  it  was  good  to  be  out  on  such  a  morning, 
far  away  from  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  busy 
world;  a  feeling  of  restfulness,  which  nature  alone 
gives,  was  over  all. 

To  Hector,  however,  it  recalled  memories  which 
made  him  shudder.  He  thought  of  that  great  moor 
he  had  so  recently  been  a  prisoner  on,  and  of  his 
escape,  and  the  privations  he  suffered.  There  was 
not  the  cruel  look  about  Haverton,  and  there  was 
no  prison  in  its  space. 

Blackett  sent  his  head  lad  to  start  them.  Look- 
ing through  powerful  glasses  he  saw  when  they 
moved  off  and  said,  "They're  on  the  way;  we  shall 
know  something." 

The  three  were  galloping  straight  toward  them 
at  a  tremendous  pace. 

Rodney  held  the  lead ;  he  would  be  done  with  at 
the  end  of  the  first  mile,  then  Admiral  would  jump 
in  and  pilot  them  home. 

Abe  Dent  meant  winning  on  Tristram;  he  had 
little  doubt  about  it.     How  could  Tearaway  be  ex- 


"ST.  LEGER'S  IN  YOUR  POCKET"     137 

pected  to  beat  him  at  a  difference  of  only  seven 
pounds  ?    It  was  absurd ! 

Rodney  fell  back,  and  Admiral  took  command 
with  a  six  lengths'  lead.  The  lad  on  him  had  in- 
structions to  come  along  at  top  speed,  and  was 
nothing  loath;  he  knew  his  mount  was  a  smasher 
over  a  mile. 

Tearaway  was  in  the  rear,  Erickson  keeping  close 
behind  Tristram.  When  Admiral  took  Rodney's 
place  the  jockey  knew  the  filly  was  going  splendidly ; 
he  felt  sure  he  could  pass  Tristram  at  any  time. 

Dent  saw  Admiral  sailing  ahead  and  went  after 
him;  the  gap  lessened,  Tristram  got  within  three 
lengths  and  stopped  there.  Sir  Robert's  horse  was 
a  great  stayer,  but  he  lacked  the  sprinting  speed  for 
a  lightning  finish.  This  was  where  Tearaway  had 
the  advantage. 

"What  a  pace !"  exclaimed  Sir  Robert.  "By  jove, 
Pic,  you've  got  a  wonder  in  that  filly,  but  she'll  not 
beat  my  fellow." 

"They  have  half  a  mile  to  go  yet,"  said  the 
trainer.     "There'll  be  a  change  before  long." 

So  great  was  the  pace  that  Admiral  ran  him- 
self out  at  the  end  of  six  furlongs  and  came  back 
to  Tristram.  Fred  saw  this,  and  giving  Tearaway 
a  hint  she  raced  up  alongside  the  Cup  horse. 

When  Dent  saw  her  head  level  with  him  he  set 
to  work  on  his  mount.     Tristram  always  finished 


138  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

like  a  bulldog,  and  had  to  be  ridden  out.  He  gained 
again. 

Sir  Robert  saw  it  and  said :  "He'll  come  right 
away  now." 

So  thought  the  others,  with  the  exception  of  the 
trainer;  he  sat  on  his  cob,  a  self-satisfied  smile  on 
his  face. 

"Wait  till  Fred  turns  the  tap  on,"  he  thought. 

Erickson  was  not  long  in  doing  this.  He  knew 
Tearaway's  speed  was  something  abnormal.;  in  his 
opinion  nothing  could  stand  against  it. 

In  answer  to  his  call,  Tearaway  swooped  down 
on  Tristram  again,  drew  level,  headed  him,  left 
him,  and  was  a  length  ahead  before  Dent  recovered 
from  the  shock.  On  came  Tearaway.  They  looked 
in  amazement.  Sir  Robert  could  hardly  believe  his 
eyes.  What  a  tremendous  pace  at  the  end  of  a  two- 
mile  gallop. 

"What  did  I  tell  you !"  exclaimed  the  trainer  tri- 
umphantly.    "Fast  as  the  wind,  you  bet  she  is." 

The  black  filly  came  on,  increasing  her  lead  at 
every  stride;  she  passed  them  a  good  couple  of 
lengths  ahead  of  Tristram,  Admiral  toiling  in  the 
rear. 

"Wonderful  \"  exclaimed  Sir  Robert.  He  seemed 
puzzled  to  account  for  it.  Was  Tristram  off  color? 
He  must  ask  Dent. 

The  pair  pulled  up  and  came  slowly  to  the  group. 


"ST.  LEGER'S  IN  YOUR  POCKET"     139 

"Anything  wrong  with  my  horse?"  asked  Sir 
Robert. 

"No,  sir;  he  galloped  as  well  as  ever,  but  that 
filly's  a  wonder,  a  holy  terror,  never  saw  anything 
like  it,  she  flew  past  him — her  pace  is  tremendous," 
and  Dent  looked  at  Tearaway  with  a  sort  of  awe. 

"Won  easily,"  said  Fred.  "Never  had  to  press 
her.  I  had  the  measure  of  Tristram  all  the  way ;  I 
could  have  raced  up  to  him  at  any  part  of  the  spin. 
Look  at  her  now.  She  doesn't  blow  enough  to  put 
a  match  out;  you  can't  feel  her  breathing  hardly. 
She's  the  best  racer  I  ever  put  my  leg  across." 

"Pic,  the  St  Leger's  in  your  pocket,"  said  Sir 
Robert,  as  he  shook  him  heartily  by  the  hand. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

HOW  HECTOR  FOUGHT  THE  BLOODHOUND 

THE  night  before  Hector  was  to  leave  Haver- 
ton  he  sat  with  his  brother  and  Captain  Ben 
in  the  study.  They  had  been  talking  over  Tear- 
away's  wonderful  trial,  and  Picton  said  he  should 
back  her  to  win  the  biggest  stake  he  had  ever  gone 
for. 

"And  you  shall  have  half  if  she  wins,  as  I  feel 
sure  she  will,"  he  said  to  Hector. 

"You  are  too  good,"  said  Hector;  "but  I  won't 
refuse  it.  I  may  want  it.  I  have  a  difficult  and 
expensive  game  to  play." 

"Don't  run  into  danger,"  said  Ben. 

"I'll  avoid  it  where  possible,"  said  Hector. 

"You  have  not  told  us  how  you  escaped  from  pris- 
on," said  Picton.  "Perhaps  it  is  too  painful  a  sub- 
ject." 

"Painful  it  is,  but  I  fully  intended  telling  you. 
I  may  as  well  do  it  now.  I  want  to  recompense  the 
man  on  the  moor,  also  Brack,  without  whose  assist- 
ance I  should  not  have  boarded  the  Sea-mew.     I 

140 


HOW  HECTOR  FOUGHT  141 

protested  but  he  insisted  on  taking  me  there.  I 
thought  my  presence  on  board  might  compromise 
you.  Brack  asked  me  what  I  would  do  if  you  and 
I  changed  places  and  I  confessed  to  myself  I  would 
help  you  to  escape." 

"Did  you  doubt  what  I  would  do?"  asked  Picton. 

"No,  but  I  did  not  wish  you  to  run  any  risk  for 
my  sake." 

"That  was  unkind;  you  know  I  would  do  any- 
thing for  you,"  said  Picton. 

"Anyhow,  I  am  glad  Brack  insisted  on  my  going 
on  the  Sea-mew,"  said  Hector,  smiling.  "I  had 
some  luck  in  getting  away.  I  do  not  think  the 
warders  thought  I  would  try  to  escape — I  had  been 
quiet  and  orderly  during  the  time  I  had  been  there. 
When  the  gang  I  was  in  returned  to  the  prison  I 
managed  to  creep  away  and  hide  in  some  bushes. 
I  had  no  irons  on,  I  had  a  good  deal  of  liberty, 
most  of  the  men  liked  me,  one  or  two  of  them  were 
kind  and  pitied  me.  It  was  much  easier  to  slip  away 
than  I  anticipated.  When  I  was  alone  I  ran  as  fast 
as  I  could  across  the  moor.  They  were  not  long 
in  discovering  I  was  missing,  and  as  I  fled  I  heard 
the  gun  fired,  giving  warning  that  a  prisoner  had 
escaped.  The  sound  echoed  across  the  moor;  I 
knew  every  man's  hand  was  against  me  but  I  meant 
making  a  fight  for  liberty.  Even  the  hour's  free- 
dom I  had  enjoyed  helped  me.    I  was  out  of  prison, 


142  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

alone  on  the  moor,  I  determined  not  to  be  taken 
back — I  would  sooner  die.  I  knew  there  were  many 
old  disused  quarries,  and  limekilns,  about.  Could  I 
not  hide  in  one  of  these?  No;  they  would  be  sure 
to  search  them.  I  must  get  into  densely  wooded 
country,  among  the  bushes  and  undergrowth,  and 
hide  there.  I  was  weak  in  body,  for  my  health 
had  broken  down,  but  I  kept  on  until  nightfall, 
when  I  sank  down  exhausted  in  a  mass  of  bracken 
and  fell  asleep.  The  sun  was  up  when  I  awoke.  I 
looked  cautiously  round,  starting  at  every  sound;  a 
bird  in  the  trees,  or  a  rabbit  scuttling  away  made 
me  nervous.  I  saw  no  one  about,  so  I  hurried  along, 
taking  advantage  of  every  bit  of  cover.  I  passed 
the  back  of  a  huge  Tor,  which  reared  its  granite 
head  high  above  the  country,  like  a  giant  hewn  in 
stone.  It  looked  cold,  bleak,  forbidding,  had  a 
stern  aspect,  made  me  shudder ;  I  hurried  away  from 
it  across  more  open  country.  How  to  get  rid  of 
my  clothes  and  obtain  others  puzzled  me.  I  had 
no  money;  if  it  came  to  the  worst  I  must  watch 
some  farm  house  where  there  was  a  chance  of  mak- 
ing an  exchange.  I  dare  not  face  any  one;  when 
I  saw  a  man  coming  toward  me  I  hid  until  he 
passed.  I  knew  the  trackers  were  after  me,  that 
a  thorough  search  would  be  made,  and  the  feeling 
that  I  was  being  hunted  down  almost  overwhelmed 
me.     I  had  nothing  to  eat  except  a  few  berries  and 


HOW  HECTOR  FOUGHT  143 

roots;  the  nights  were  cold  and  I  lay  shivering,  ill, 
and  worn  out.  Two  days  passed  and  I  began  to 
think  I  had  a  chance.  My  prison  clothes  were  the 
great  hindrance.  I  could  not  leave  the  moor  in 
them :  it  meant  certain  capture.  I  did  not  know  in 
which  direction  I  was  traveling;  my  one  object  was 
to  go  on  and  on  until  an  opportunity  offered  to  rid 
myself  of  the  tell-tale  garments. 

"Almost  done  up  for  want  of  food,  and  the  long 
tramp,  I  sat  down  to  rest  on  a  rock,  from  which 
I  had  a  good  view  of  the  moor,  although  I  was 
hidden  from  sight.  I  knew  telescopes  and  glasses 
would  be  used,  and  that  I  should  be  discovered  if 
I  showed  myself. 

"I  saw  no  one  about,  but  about  a  mile  distant 
was  a  farm  house.  It  was  in  a  lonely,  bleak  spot. 
I  wondered  if  the  people  in  it  were  as  cold  as  the 
country;  they  could  hardly  be  blamed  if  their  sur- 
roundings hardened  them,  made  them  callous  to 
human  suffering.  I  don't  know  what  it  was,  but 
something  prompted  me  to  go  toward  this  house. 
I  walked  along,  keeping  under  cover  where  possible, 
until  half  the  distance  had  been  traversed. 

"As  I  walked  I  fancied  I  heard  a  peculiar  sound 
behind  me.  It  chilled  my  blood  in  me;  it  made 
me  tremble.  I  dare  not  look  back,  I  stood  still,  pant- 
ing with  horror.  It  was  not  the  sound  of  human 
footsteps,  and  yet  something  was  coming  after  me; 


144  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

I  distinctly  heard  the  thud  on  the  ground,  and  what- 
ever it  was  it  must  be  drawing  nearer. 

"I  cannot  convey  to  you  any  idea  of  the  peculiar 
unearthly  sound  I  heard,  no  description  of  mine 
could  be  adequate,  but  you  can  imagine  something 
of  what  I  felt,  weak  and  overtaxed  as  I  was,  my 
mind  in  a  whirl,  my  legs  deadly  tired  and  numbed, 
every  part  of  my  body  aching.  The  sound  came 
nearer.  Then  a  noise  which  increased  my  horror 
— I  had  heard  it  before,  near  the  prison — it  was  the 
bay  of  a  hound — a  bloodhound  was  on  my  track. 
I  knew  what  such  a  brute  would  do,  pull  me  down, 
tear  me,  fasten  his  teeth  in  me,  worry  me  to  death. 
In  desperation  I  turned  and  stood  still.  I  saw  the 
bloodhound  coming  along  at  a  fast  pace,  scenting 
the  ground,  then  baying  from  time  to  time.  He 
lifted  his  huge  head  and  saw  me.  I  fancied  I  saw 
fire  flash  in  his  eyes,  his  mouth  looked  blood  red, 
his  huge  jaws  and  cheeks  hung  massively  on  each 
side.  He  was  a  great  beast,  savage,  with  the  lust 
of  blood  on  him,  and  he  came  straight  at  me.  There 
was  a  chain  attached  to  his  collar,  so  I  judged  he 
must  have  wrenched  away  from  the  man  who  held 
him  in  leash.  He  was  within  fifty  yards  of  me  and 
I  prepared  to  grapple  with  him ;  I  had  no  intention 
of  allowing  my  weakness  to  overcome  me.  Fight 
him  I  must.  It  was  his  life  or  mine;  but  how  could 
I  ^yrestle  with  so  much  brute  strength  in  my  feeble 


HOW  HECTOR  FOUGHT  145 

condition?  He  came  at  me  with  the  ferocity  of  a 
lion.  He  leaped  upon  me,  and  I  caught  him  by  the 
collar.  He  bit  and  scratched  my  hands,  but  I  did 
not  let  go.  For  a  moment  I  held  him,  his  savage 
face  glared  into  mine,  his  huge  paws  were  on  my 
chest,  he  stood  on  his  hind  legs,  the  incarnation  of 
brute  strength.  We  glared  at  each  other.  Like  a 
lightning  flash  it  crossed  my  mind  that  I  must  loose 
my  hold  on  the  collar  and  grasp  his  throat  with 
both  hands,  throttle  him.  This  was  easier  thought 
than  done,  for  once  I  loosened  my  grip  on  the  collar 
he  might  wrench  himself  free  and  hurl  me  to  the 
ground;  then  his  teeth  would  be  at  my  throat  in- 
stead of  my  hands  at  his.  I  did  it  in  a  second.  He 
almost  slipped  me;  he  was  very  cunning — the  mo- 
ment I  loosened  my  hold  on  the  collar  he  seemed 
to  know  my  intention.  But  I  had  him,  held  him, 
put  all  my  strength  with  it  and  felt  his  windpipe 
gradually  being  crushed  closer  and  closer.  At  that 
moment  I  think  I  was  as  great  a  savage  as  the  blood- 
hound, I  felt  if  it  had  been  a  man  I  held  by  the 
throat  I  should  have  done  the  same  to  free  myself. 
How  he  struggled!  We  fell  to  the  ground  and 
rolled  over,  but  I  never  loosened  my  hold  and  hardly 
felt  the  pain  in  my  hands.  He  tore  me  with  his 
feet,  scratching,  striving  to  bite  me  and  failing. 
We  rolled  over  and  over  but  I  did  not  let  go.  I 
was  almost  exhausted  when  the  hound's  struggle  re- 


146  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

laxed — in  a  few  minutes  he  was  dead.  No  one  can 
imagine  the  feeling  of  relief  and  thankfulness  that 
came  over  me.  I  offered  up  a  prayer  for  my  deliv- 
ery from  a  terrible  death,  then  sank  down  in  a 
faint  by  his  side. 

"When  I  came  to  I  thought  what  I  should  do. 
There  would  be  another  hound  on  the  track,  I  must 
put  it  off  the  scent.  The  smell  of  my  clothes  was 
what  they  were  following;  I  knew  this  from  what 
I  had  been  told  in  the  prison.  I  must  get  rid  of 
the  clothes.  I  stripped  them  off  and  laid  them  on 
the  bloodhound,  then  I  tied  my  coarse  vest  round 
my  loins  and  started  toward  the  farm  house.  As 
I  went  I  saw  a  man  come  out  at  the  gate  with  a 
gun.  I  determined  to  face  him,  risk  it,  throw  my- 
self on  his  mercy.  He  saw  me  and  stood  still,  star- 
ing in  amazement — and  well  he  might.  At  first  I 
think  he  thought  I  was  mad, 

"I  sank  down  at  his  feet,  utterly  overcome,  and 
I  saw  a  look  of  pity  in  his  somewhat  stern  face  and 
eyes. 

"  'You  are  an  escaped  convict,'  he  said. 

"I  acknowledged  it  and  pleaded  my  innocence. 

"He  smiled  as  he  said :  'They  are  always  inno- 
cent.' 

"I  asked  him  to  come  and  see  what  I  had  done. 

"  'Here,  put  this  coat  on,'  he  said. 

"He  wore  a  long  coat,  almost  to  his  heels,  and 


HOW  HECTOR  FOUGHT  147 

it  covered  me.  We  walked  to  where  the  hound 
lay.  I  explained  what  had  happened,  that  I  had 
wrestled  wth  the  brute  and  after  a  long  struggle 
throttled  him.  He  was  amazed  and  said  I  was  a 
good  plucked  'un.  There  was  no  one  in  the  house 
but  himself,  he  said;  the  others  had  gone  to  Tor- 
quay; would  I  come  with  him  and  tell  my  story? 
I  went,  and  made  such  an  impression  upon  him 
that  he  said  he  believed  my  tale  and  would  help 
me.  He  gave  me  some  old  clothes,  food  and  drink, 
then  hurried  me  on  my  way.  He  advised  me  to  go 
to  Torquay  and  try  and  communicate  with  some 
friends.  He  promised  to  put  the  searchers  off  the 
scent  if  they  made  inquiries.  I  said  he  would  reap 
a  reward,  for  what  he  had  done,  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  care  about  this.  He  urged  me  to  get  off 
the  moor  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"Before  I  left  he  filled  my  pockets  with  cheese, 
meat,  and  bread,  and  gave  me  an  old  cap,  and  worn- 
out  boots.  I  said  I  should  never  forget  him;  he 
answered  that  he  hoped  he  had  done  right  in  help- 
ing me. 

"I  tramped  to  Torquay,  I — "  he  hesitated.  No, 
he  would  not  tell  them  of  the  gracious  lady  who 
assisted  him  and  treated  him  as  a  man,  not  a  tramp. 

"I  found  Brack.  He  took  me  to  his  home,  con- 
cealed me  there  until  he  contrived  to  smuggle  me 


148  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

on  board  the  Sea-mew,"  said  Hector,  as  he  fin- 
ished his  story. 

"What  an  awful  experience!"  exclaimed  Ben. 

"Terrible!"  said  Picton  with  a  shudder. 

"Can  you  wonder  that  I  hunger  for  revenge?" 
said  Hector;  and  they  understood  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AN    INTRODUCTION    AT    HURST    PARK 

IT  was  pure  chance  that  led  to  the  introduction 
of  Hector  Woodridge,  as  William  Rolfe,  to 
Fletcher  Denyer. 

Hector  had  been  in  London  a  week;  he  visited 
various  places  of  amusement,  showed  himself  open- 
ly, made  no  attempt  at  concealment.  He  went  to 
the  races  at  Hurst  Park  and  Gatwick.  It  was  at 
the  famous  course  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames  that 
he  was  made  known  to  Denyer,  by  a  man  he  be- 
came friendly  with  at  his  hotel.  There  is  much 
freedom  on  the  racecourse,  and  men,  often  unknown 
to  each  other,  speak  on  various  topics  connected 
with  the  sport,  without  introduction. 

Denyer  and  Hector  were  soon  in  conversation, 
discussing  the  merits  of  various  horses.  Denyer 
received  a  word  from  the  man  who  introduced  them 
that  Mr.  Rolfe  had  money  and  might  be  exploited 
profitably  to  both.  A  hint  such  as  this  was  not 
likely  to  be  neglected;  he  thought  if  he  could  put 
this  newly  made  acquaintance  on  a  winner  it  would 

149 


150  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

probably  result  in  future  business.  He  had  been 
advised  to  back  Frisky  in  the  Flying  Handicap,  and 
told  Hector  it  was  a  real  good  thing,  and  likely  to 
start  at  a  long  price. 

Hector  wondered  why  he  should  tell  him.  As  he 
looked  at  Denyer  he  fancied  he  had  seen  him  be- 
fore, but  where  he  could  not  for  the  moment  recall. 
Denyer  walked  away  to  speak  to  a  jockey,  and  Hec- 
tor stood  trying  to  remember  where  he  had  met  him. 
It  flashed  across  his  mind  so  vividly  and  suddenly 
that  he  was  startled — Denyer  was  the  man  he  had 
seen  at  the  supper  table  in  the  hotel  with  Lenise 
Elroy.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it ;  he  remem- 
bered his  face  distinctly.  Here  was  a  stroke  of  luck. 
Some  guiding  hand  had  led  him  to  this  man.  He 
must  cultivate  his  acquaintance ;  through  him  he 
could  be  brought  face  to  face  with  the  woman  who 
had  ruined  him. 

Frisky  won  comfortably,  started  at  ten  to  one, 
and  Hector  landed  a  hundred  pounds.  He  also 
backed  the  winner  of  the  next  race,  the  Welter 
Handicap,  and  doubled  his  hundred.  This  was  en- 
couraging; it  was  to  be  a  day  of  success — at  least 
it  appeared  so. 

Denyer  he  did  not  see  for  some  time.  Shortly 
before  the  last  race  he  noticed  him  walking  across 
the  paddock  with  a  lady.  It  was  Mrs.  Elroy,  and 
Hector's  heart  almost  stopped  beating.     For  a  mo- 


INTRODUCTION  AT  HURST  PARK     151 

ment  he  trembled  with  nervous  excitement,  which 
by  a  great  effort  he  suppressed. 

They  came  up ;  Denyer  introduced  her.  She  held 
out  her  hand,  Hector  took  it,  they  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes.  There  was  not  a  shadow  of  recog- 
nition on  her  part,  but  there  was  something  else 
there — Lenise  Elroy  had  by  some  strange  intuition 
thrilled  at  the  sight  of  this  man,  felt  a  wave  of 
emotion  flow  through  her  body.  She  was  sure  she 
would  like  him,  like  him  very  much  indeed,  and  she 
immediately  resolved  to  better  the  acquaintance. 
Hector  divined  something  of  what  passed  in  her 
mind  and  smiled.  He  could  have  wished  for  noth- 
ing better;  it  was  what  he  most  desired,  but  had 
not  dared  to  hope  for. 

Denyer  left  them  together  for  a  moment. 

"You  are  a  friend  of  Mr.  Denyer's?"  she  said  in 
a  soothing  voice. 

"I  was  introduced  to  him  here,"  he  said.  "I 
have  not  known  him  more  than  an  hour  or  so.  He 
put  me  on  a  winner,  Frisky,  and  I  also  backed  the 
last  winner.  My  luck  is  in  to-day,"  he  added,  as 
he  looked  meaningly  at  her. 

Lenise  Elroy  returned  his  glance ;  she  understood 
men.  She  thought  she  had  made  a  conquest  and 
that  he  was  worth  it. 

"Will  you  ride  back  to  town  with  us  in  my 
motor?"  said  Denyer,  as  he  joined  them  again. 


152  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Yes,  do,  Mr.  Rolfe;  we  shall  be  delighted  if 
you  will.  And  perhaps  you  will  dine  with  us  a* 
the  Savoy,"  she  said. 

Hector  said  he  would  be  delighted.  Fortune  was 
indeed  favoring  him. 

They  rode  to  town  together,  and  dined  at  the 
Savoy;  later  on  they  went  to  the  Empire.  It  was 
an  eventful  day  and  night  for  Hector.  Before  he 
left,  Denyer  was  half  inclined  to  regret  introducing 
him  to  Lenise;  he  did  not  care  for  her  to  show  pref- 
erence for  another  man;  where  she  was  concerned 
he  was  jealous.  He  reflected,  however,  that  if  she 
and  Rolfe  became  good  friends  it  would  facilitate 
the  process  of  extracting  money  from  him,  and  this 
was  his  intention;  every  rich  man  he  regarded  as 
his  lawful  prey.  To  him  Rolfe  appeared  rather 
a  simple-minded,  easy-going  fellow ;  probably  he  had 
traveled  a  good  deal,  he  looked  tanned  with  the 
sun,  as  though  he  had  been  in  hot  climates;  such 
men  were  generally  free  with  their  money,  fond  of 
company,  and  the  society  of  an  attractive  woman 
like  Lenise,  who  had  very  few  scruples  about  the 
proprieties. 

When  he  left,  Hector  promised  to  lunch  with 
them  the  following  day. 

Fletcher  Denyer  went  home  with  Lenise.  Her 
maid  was  accustomed  to  seeing  him  in  her  rooms 
at  all  hours;  she  had  never  known  him  remain  in 


INTRODUCTION  AT  HURST  PARK     153 

the  house  for  the  night;  she  judged,  and  rightly, 
there  was  nothing  improper  in  their  relations.  The 
fact  of  the  matter  was,  they  were  mutually  useful 
to  each  other.  Lenise  wanted  some  one  to  go  about 
with;  and  Denyer  not  only  liked  her  society,  but 
found  her  help  to  him  in  many  of  his  schemes. 

She  took  off  her  cloak,  handing  it  to  her  maid, 
then  sat  down  on  the  couch  and  made  herself  com- 
fortable, and  attractive;  she  knew  the  full  value  of 
her  personal  appearance,  and  fine  figure,  and  posed 
accordingly.  Fletcher  Denyer  always  admired  her; 
to-night  she  looked  so  radiant  and  alluring  he  was 
fascinated,  under  her  spell.  He  forgot  his  caution 
so  far  as  to  come  to  the  sofa,  bend  over  her,  attempt 
to  kiss  her.  She  pushed  him  back  roughly,  and 
said :  "Keep  your  distance,  Fletcher,  or  we  shall  fall 
out.     You  have  had  too  much  champagne." 

"It's  not  the  champagne,"  he  said  hotly;  "it's  your 
beauty ;  it  acts  like  wine.  You  are  lovelier  than  ever 
to-night.  That  fellow  Rolfe  admired  you,  any  one 
could  see  it.  You're  not  going  to  throw  me  over 
for  him,  are  you,  Len?" 

"Don't  be  a  silly  boy.  As  for  throwing  you  over, 
there  is  no  engagement  between  us;  we  are  merely 
good  friends,  and  if  you  wish  to  maintain  the  rela- 
tionship you  had  better  not  try  to  kiss  me  again. 
I  hate  being  kissed;  kisses  are  only  for  babes  and 
sucklings,"  she  said. 


154  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

He  laughed ;  it  was  no  good  quarreling  with  her. 
He  was  satisfied  to  think  that  had  any  other  man 
attempted  to  kiss  her  she  would  have  ordered  him 
out  of  the  house. 

''Not  much  of  the  babe  about  you,'*  he  said. 

"More  than  you  think,  but  I'm  not  made  to  be 
kissed." 

"That's  just  what  you  are,  the  most  lovable  wom- 
an I  ever  met." 

She  laughed. 

"That  champagne  was  certainly  too  strong  for 
you,"  she  said. 

She  never  seemed  tired;  all  go,  no  matter  how 
late  the  hour;  her  flow  of  spirits  seldom  flagged, 
her  eyes  always  shone  brightly,  her  complexion 
never  failed  her ;  she  was  really  a  remarkable  wom- 
an. No  one  knew  what  an  effort  it  cost  her  to  keep 
up  appearances — alone  a  change  came  over  her,  the 
reaction  set  in.  She  did  not  care  to  be  alone,  at 
times  she  was  afraid. 

"What  do  you  think  of  Rolfe?"  he  asked. 

"In  what  way?" 

"All  ways,  as  far  as  you  can  judge  from  what 
you  have  seen  to-day,  and  to-night,"  he  said. 

She  was  thoughtful.  He  watched  her;  the  jeal- 
ous feeling  came  uppermost  again. 

"I  think,"  she  said  slowly,  "he  is  a  man  who  has 
had  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  suffered  much,  prob- 


INTRODUCTION  AT  HURST  PARK     155 

ably  on  account  of  a  woman.  I  think  he  is  a  strong 
man,  that  he  is  determined,  and  if  he  has  an  object 
in  view  he  will  attain  it,  no  matter  what  the  obstacles 
in  his  way.  Probably  he  has  traveled,  seen  a  good 
deal  of  the  world,  had  strange  experiences.  He  has 
remarkable  eyes,  they  pierce,  probe  into  one,  search 
out  things.  He  is  a  fine  looking  man,  well  built, 
but  has  probably  had  a  severe  illness  not  long  ago. 
I  think  I  shall  like  him ;  he  is  worth  cultivating, 
making  a  friend  of." 

She  spoke  as  though  no  one  were  present.  Fletch- 
er Denver  felt  for  the  time  being  he  was  forgotten 
and  resented  it. 

"You  have  analyzed  him  closely;  you  must  be  a 
character  reader.  Have  you  ever  turned  your  bat- 
tery of  close  observation  on  me?"  he  asked  snap- 
pishly. 

She  smiled. 

"You  angry  man,  you  asked  me  what  I  think  of 
him  and  I  have  told  you.  I  have  turned  the  battery 
on  you,  Fletcher.  I  know  your  worth  exactly.  I 
am  useful  to  you;  you  are  useful  to  me — that  is 
all." 

"All!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Well,  what  else?    We  are  not  in  love,  are  we?" 

"No,  I  suppose  not.  Has  it  ever  occurred  to 
you,  Lenise,  that  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife?"  he 
asked. 


156  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"No,  it  has  not  occurred  to  me,  nor  has  it  oc- 
curred to  you  before  to-night,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  it  has." 

"I  doubt  it.  Besides,  things  are  much  better  a? 
they  are.  I  would  not  be  your  wife  if  you  asked 
me,"  she  said. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"Because — oh,  for  the  very  sufficient  reason  that 
you  could  not  keep  me,  and  I  have  sufficient  to  live 
upon,"  she  said. 

He  saw  it  would  be  better  to  drop  the  subject  and 
said :  "You  have  no  objection  to  giving  me  a  help- 
ing hand?" 

"In  what  way?" 

"This  man  Rolfe  has  money.  I  don't  agree  with 
your  estimate  of  him  as  a  strong  man;  I  think  he 
is  weak.    He  may  be  useful  to  me." 

"You  mean  he  may  be  induced  to  finance  some 
of  your  schemes?"  she  said. 

"Yes ;  why  not  ?  Where's  the  harm  ?  His  money 
is  as  good  as  another's,  or  better." 

"And  you  think  I  will  lure  him  into  your  finan- 
cial net?"  she  said  calmly. 

"Not  exactly  that;  you  can  hint  that  I  sometimes 
get  in  the  know,  behind  the  scenes,  and  so  on,  then 
leave  the  rest  to  me,"  he  said. 

"Take  care,  Fletcher.  This  man  Rolfe  is  more 
than  your  equal;  I  am  sure  of  it.     If  he  is  drawn 


INTRODUCTION  AT  HURST  PARK     157 

into  your  schemes  it  will  be  for  some  object  of  his 
own.     Don't  drag  me  into  it." 

"There's  no  dragging  about  it.  You  have  merely 
to  give  me  a  good  character,  say  I  am  clever  and 
shrewd — you  know  how  to  work  it,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  know  how  to  work  it,"  she  said 
quietly. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

CONSCIENCE    TROUBLES 

LENISE  ELROY  sat  in  her  bedroom  long  after 
Fletcher  Denyer  left  the  house.  She  dismissed 
her  maid  before  undressing,  who,  accustomed  to  her 
mistress's  moods,  thought  nothing  of  it. 

"I  hate  being  alone,"  she  said  to  herself,  "and 
yet  it  is  only  then  I  can  throw  off  the  mask.  I 
am  a  wicked  woman;  at  least  I  have  been  told  so, 
long  ago.  Perhaps  I  am,  or  was  at  that  time.  I 
wonder  if  Hector  Woodridge  is  dead,  or  if  he  es- 
caped? It  is  hardly  likely  he  got  away.  I  could 
wish  he  had,  if  he  were  out  of  the  country  and  I 
were  safe.  It  w?s  not  my  fault  altogether;  he  has 
suffered,  so  have  I,  and  suffer  still.  I  loved  him 
in  those  days,  whatever  he  may  have  thought  to 
the  contrary,  but  I  don't  think  he  loved  me.  Had 
Raoul  been  a  man  it  would  never  have  happened, 
but  he  was  a  weak,  feeble-minded  mortal  and  bored 
me  intensely.  I  ought  not  to  have  married  him; 
it  was  folly — money  is  not  everything.  I  could 
have  been  a  happy  woman  with  such  a  man  as  Hec- 

158 


CONSCIENCE  TROUBLES  159 

tor.  How  he  must  have  suffered !  But  so  have  I. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  conscience;  I  discovered 
it  long  ago,  and  it  has  tormented  me,  made  my  life 
at  times  a  hell.  I  have  tried  to  stifle  it  and  cannot. 
Ever  since  that  night  at  Torquay  I  have  been 
haunted  by  a  horrible  dread  that  he  got  away  on 
his  brother's  yacht,  the  Sea-mew.  Captain  Bruce  is 
devoted  to  them,  he  would  do  anything  to  help  them. 
Perhaps  it  was  part  of  the  plan  that  the  Sea-mew 
should  lie  in  Torbay  waiting  for  his  escape.  Money 
will  do  a  great  deal,  and  bribery  may  have  been 
at  work.  It  seems  hardly  possible,  but  there  is  no 
telling.  The  boatman  said  he  was  dead,  Hackler 
said  the  same;  they  may  be  wrong — who  knows — 
and  at  this  moment  he  may  be  free  and  plotting 
against  me.  I  can  expect  no  mercy  from  him;  I 
have  wronged  him  too  deeply;  it  is  not  in  human 
nature  to  forgive  what  I  have  done." 

She  shuddered,  her  face  was  drawn  and  haggard, 
she  looked  ten  years  older  than  she  did  an  hour  ago. 

"Do  I  regret  what  happened?"  she  asked  her- 
self. She  could  not  honestly  say  she  did;  given  the 
same  situation  over  again  she  felt  everything  would 
happen  as  it  did  then.  It  was  a  blunder,  a  crime, 
and  the  consequences  were  terrible,  but  it  freed  her, 
she  was  left  to  live  her  life  as  she  wished,  and  it 
was  an  intense  relief  to  be  rid  of  Raoul.  She  knew 
it  was  callous,  wicked,  to  think  like  this,  Wut  she 


160  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

could  not  help  it.  She  had  not  been  a  bad  woman 
since  her  husband's  death,  not  as  bad  women  go. 
She  had  had  one  or  two  love  affairs,  but  she  had 
been  circumspect,  there  was  no  more  scandal,  and 
she  did  no  harm.  She  prided  herself  on  this,  as  she 
thought  of  the  opportunities  and  temptations  that 
were  thrown  in  her  way  and  had  been  resisted. 

"I'm  not  naturally  a  bad  woman,"  she  reasoned. 
"I  do  not  lure  men  to  destruction,  fleece  them  of 
their  money,  then  cast  them  aside.  I  have  been 
merciful  to  young  fellows  who  have  become  infatu- 
ated with  me,  chilled  their  ardor,  made  them  cool 
toward  me,  saved  them  from  themselves."  She  re- 
called two  or  three  instances  where  she  had  done 
this  and  it  gave  her  satisfaction. 

Her  conscience,  however,  troubled  her,  and  never 
more  than  to-night.  She  could  not  account  for  it. 
Why  on  this  particular  night  should  she  be  so  vilely 
tormented?  It  was  no  use  going  to  bed;  she  could 
not  sleep;  at  least  not  without  a  drug,  and  she  had 
taken  too  many  of  late.  Sleep  under  such  circum- 
stances failed  to  soothe  her ;  she  awoke  with  a  heavy 
head  and  tired  eyes,  her  body  hardly  rested. 

She  got  up  and  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  room. 
She  was  debating  what  to  do,  how  to  act.  Never 
since  her  love  affair  with  Hector  Woodridge  had 
she  met  a  man  who  appealed  to  her  as  William 
Rolfe  did.    The  moment  she  was  introduced  to  him 


CONSCIENCE  TROUBLES  161 

at  the  races  she  knew  he  was  bound  to  influence  her 
life  for  good,  or  evil.  She  recognized  the  strong 
man  in  him,  the  man  who  could  bend  her  to  his  will ; 
she  knew  in  his  hands  she  would  be  as  weak  as  the 
weakest  of  her  sex,  that  she  would  yield  to  him. 
More,  she  wished  him  to  dominate  her,  to  place 
herself  in  his  power,  to  say  to  him,  "I  am  yours; 
do  what  you  will  with  me."  All  this  swept  over 
her  as  she  looked  into  his  eyes  and  caught,  she 
fancied,  an  answering  response.  She  had  felt  much 
of  this  with  Hector  Woodridge,  but  not  all;  Wil- 
liam Rolfe  had  a  surer  hold  of  her,  if  he  wished 
to  exercise  his  power,  she  knew  it. 

Did  she  wish  him  to  exercise  the  power? 

She  thought  no,  and  meant  yes.  Fletcher  Denyer 
was  useful  to  her,  but  in  her  heart  she  despised 
him;  he  took  her  money  without  scruple  when  she 
offered  it.  She  was  quite  certain  Rolfe  would  not 
do  so,  even  if  he  wanted  it  ever  so  badly.  She  had 
no  fear  of  Denyer,  or  his  jealous  moods.  She 
smiled  as  she  thought  of  him  in  his  fits  of  anger, 
spluttering  like  a  big  child.  Rolfe  was  a  man  in 
every  respect,  so  she  thought ;  she  was  a  woman  who 
liked  to  be  subdued  by  a  strong  hand.  The  tragedy 
in  her  life  had  not  killed  her  love  of  pleasure,  al- 
though the  result  of  it,  as  regards  Hector  Wood- 
ridge, had  caused  her  much  pain.  Still  she  was  a 
woman  who  cast  aside  trouble  and  steeled  herself 


162  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

against  it.  She  had  not  met  a  man  who  could  make 
her  forget  the  past  and  live  only  in  the  present,  but 
now  she  believed  William  Rolfe  could  do  it. 

Would  he  try,  would  he  come  to  her?  She 
thought  it  possible,  probable;  and  if  he  did,  how 
would  she  act?  Would  she  confess  what  had  hap- 
pened in  her  life?  She  must,  it  would  be  necessary, 
there  would  be  no  deception  with  such  a  man.  What 
would  be  the  consequences — would  he  pity,  or  blame 
her? 

At  last  she  went  to  bed,  and  toward  morninsr  fell 
asleep,  a  restless  slumber,  accompanied  by  unpleas- 
ant dreams.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  she 
dressed ;  she  remembered  she  had  to  meet  Fletcher 
and  William  Rolfe  at  luncheon.  She  took  a  taxi 
to  the  hotel,  and  found  Rolfe  waiting  for  her.  He 
handed  her  a  note ;  it  was  from  Denyer,  stating  he 
was  detained  in  the  city  on  urgent  business,  apol- 
ogizing for  his  unavoidable  absence,  asking  Rolfe 
to  meet  him  later  on,  naming  the  place. 

He  watched  her  as  she  read  it,  and  saw  she  was 
pleased;  it  gave  him  savage  satisfaction.  He  had 
not  thought  his  task  would  be  so  easy;  everything 
worked  toward  the  end  he  had  in  view. 

"I  hope  you  will  keep  your  appointment,  at  any 
rate,"  he  said. 

"I  have  done  so,  I  am  here,"  she  answered,  smil- 
ing. 


CONSCIENCE  TROUBLES  163 

"I  mean  that  you  will  lunch  with  me." 

"Would  it  be  quite  proper?"  she  asked  with  a 
challenging  glance. 

"Quite,"  he  said.    "I  will  take  every  care  of  you." 

She  wondered  how  old  he  was.  It  was  difficult 
to  guess.  He  might  be  younger  than  herself — not 
more  than  a  year  or  two  at  the  most.  What  caused 
that  look  on  his  face?  It  certainly  was  not  fear; 
he  was  fearless,  she  thought.  It  was  a  sort  of 
hunted  look,  as  though  he  were  always  expecting 
something  to  happen  and  was  on  his  guard.  She 
would  like  to  know  the  cause  of  it. 

"You  cannot  imagine  how  difficult  I  am  to  take 
care  of,"  she  said. 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  the  task,"  he  said.  "Will 
you  lunch  with  me?" 

"With  pleasure,"  she  replied,  and  they  went  in- 
side. 

The  room  was  well  filled,  a  fashionable  crowd; 
several  people  knew  Mrs.  Elroy  and  acknowledged 
her.  To  a  certain  extent  she  had  lived  down  the 
past,  but  the  recollection  of  it  made  her  the  more 
interesting.  Women  were  afraid  of  her  attractions, 
especially  those  who  had  somewhat  fickle  husbands; 
their  alarm  was  groundless,  had  they  known  it. 

"Wonder  who  that  is  with  her?  He's  a  fine 
looking  man,  but  there's  something  peculiar  about 
him,"  said  a  lady. 


164  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"What  do  you  see  peculiar  in  him?     Seems  an 
ordinary  individual  to  me,"  drawled  her  husband. 

"He  is  not  ordinary  by  any  means;  his  complex- 
ion is  peculiar,  a  curious  yellowy  brown,"  she  said. 
"Perhaps  he's  a  West  Indian,  or  something  of 
that  sort." 

They  sat  at  a  small  table  alone;  she  thoroughly 

enjoyed  the  lunch.     She  drank  a  couple  of  glasses 

of  champagne  and  the  sparkling  wine  revived  her. 

"Shall  we  go  for  a  motor  ride  after?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  if  you  wish,  and  will  not  be  tired  of  my 

company,"  she  said. 

"You  do  yourself  an  injustice,"  he  said.  "I  do 
not  think  you  could  tire  any  one." 

She  laughed  as  she  said :  "You  don't  know  much 
of  me,  I  am  dull  at  times,  rather  depressed."  She 
sighed,  and  for  a  moment  the  haggard  look  came 
into  her  face.  Hector  wondered  if  remorse  were 
accountable  for  it;  if  she  ever  repented  the  injury- 
she  had  done ;  no,  it  was  not  possible  or  she  would 
have  stretched  out  her  hand  to  save  him.  He  steeled 
his  heart  against  her ;  he  hated  her ;  he  would  have 
his  revenge,  cost  her  what  it  might. 

They  entered  a  taxi  and  were  driven  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Staines  and  Windsor.  She  felt  a  strange 
thrill  of  pleasure  as  she  sat  close  beside  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
"what  would  you  do?" 

THEY  went  along  the  Staines  Road,  then  by 
the  banks  of  the  Thames  past  Runnymede, 
came  to  Old  Windsor,  and  from  there  to  the  White 
Hart  Hotel.  She  thoroughly  enjoyed  it;  the  drive 
nerved  her;  she  forgot  the  painful  reflections  of  the 
previous  night.  He  talked  freely.  She  noticed  with 
satisfaction  he  seemed  attracted  by  her,  looked  at 
her  searchingly  as  though  interested.  They  went 
on  the  river  and  were  rowed  past  the  racecourse. 
It  was  warm  and  fine,  the  flow  of  the  water  past 
the  boat  soothed  her.  They  had  tea  at  the  hotel, 
then  returned  to  town. 

"Where  to?"  he  asked  when  they  were  nearin^ 
Kensington.  She  gave  the  name  of  her  flat  and 
they  alighted  there. 

"I  have  been  here  some  time,"  she  said.  "I  find 
it  comfortable  and  quiet.     Will  you  come  in?" 

He  followed  her.  He  noticed  her  room  was 
furnished  expensively  and  in  excellent  taste;  there 
was  nothing  grand  or  gaudy  about  it. 

"I  am  alone  here,  with  my  maid,"  she  said.  "They 
i^5 


166  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

have  an  excellent  system:  all  meals  are  prepared 
downstairs  and  sent  up;  there  is  a  very  good  chef." 

"The  least  possible  trouble,"  he  said.  "How  long 
have  you  been  here?" 

"Three  years.  It  suits  me ;  I  do  not  care  to  be 
away  from  London.  In  my  married  days  I  lived 
in  the  country,  but  it  bored  me  to  death.  Do  you 
like  the  country?" 

"Yes,  I  love  it;  but  then  much  of  my  life  has 
been  spent  in  solitude." 

"You  have  traveled?" 

"Yes." 

"I  thought  so." 

"Why?" 

"Your  complexion  denotes  it.  I  like  it,  there 
is  a  healthy  brown  about  it." 

"I  have  done  much  hard  work  in  my  time,"  he 
said. 

"Mining?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  would  call  it  that." 

"Where?" 

"On  Dartmoor,"  he  said. 

She  was  so  astonished  she  could  not  speak.  She 
looked  at  him  with  fear  in  her  eyes, 

"Dartmoor?"  she  whispered.  "I  did  not  know 
there  were  mines  on  Dartmoor." 

"Oh,  yes,  there  are — copper  mines.  I  was  fool 
enough  to  believe  there  was  money  in  them,  but  I 


"WHAT  WOULD  YOU  DO?"      167 

was  mistaken;  there  is  copper  there,  no  doubt,  but 
I  did  not  find  it,"  he  said. 

She  felt  as  though  a  snake  fascinated  her,  that 
she  must  ask  questions  about  it. 

"I  have  been  to  Torquay,  but  I  did  not  go  to 
Dartmoor,"  she  said. 

"You  ought  to  have  done  so;  it  is  a  wonderful 
place.  I  was  there  a  long  time.  When  were  you 
in  Torquay?" 

She  told  him. 

"Strange,"  he  said;  "I  was  there  at  that  time." 

She  felt  a  curious  dread,  not  of  him,  but  of  some- 
thing unknown. 

"I  went  to  the  races — a  friend  of  mine  was  riding 
there.     He  won  four  events.     Lucky,  was  it  not?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  faintly.     "Who  was  he?" 

"Picton  Woodridge.  His  yacht  the  Sea-mew  was 
in  the  bay.     I  was  on  it." 

"You!"  she  exclaimed,  and  he  saw  the  fear  in 
her  eyes. 

"Yes,  why  not?  Is  there  anything  strange  about 
it?"  he  asked,  smiling.  "He  lives  at  Haverton. 
He  is  rich,  but  he  is  not  quite  happy." 

"Why  not,  if  he  has  everything  he  wants?" 

"He  has  not  everything  he  wants;  no  one  has,  as 
a  matter  of  fact.  It  would  not  be  good  for  us.  You 
have  not  all  you  want" 

"No,  I  have  not;  but  I  get  along  very  well." 


168  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"What  is  missing  out  of  your  life?"  he  asked. 

"I  can  hardly  tell  you." 

"My  friend's  life  is  overcast  by  a  great  calamity 
that  befell  his  family  some  years  ago." 

"What  was  it?"  she  asked,  and  a  slight  shiver 
passed  through  her. 

"His  brother  was  accused  of  murder,  of  shoot- 
ing the  husband  of  the  woman  he  had  fallen  in 
love  with.  He  was  condemned  and  reprieved;  he 
is  at  Dartmoor  now.  That  is  enough  to  make  his 
brother's  life  unhappy;  it  killed  the  Admiral,  their 
father." 

"How  shocking!"  she  said. 

"I  never  thought  of  it  before,  but,  strange  to  say, 
the  man's  name  was  Elroy.  It  is  your  name,"  he 
said. 

She  laughed  uneasily ;  she  could  not  tell  him  now. 

"I  hope  you  do  not  connect  me  with  the  lady  in 
question  ?" 

"No,  of  course  not.  How  absurd!  But  still  it 
is  strange — the  name  is  uncommon,"  he  said. 

"I  suppose  you  never  saw  his  brother  at  the  pris- 
on?" 

"I  did— I  wish  I  had  not." 

"Did  he  look  very  ill,  broken  down  ?" 

"He  was  a  terrible  wreck.  He  suffered  awful 
agony,  of  mind  more  than  body.  I  never  saw  such 
a  change  in  a  man  in  my  life.    When  I  knew  Hector 


"WHAT  WOULD  YOU  DO?"       169 

Woodridge  he  was  a  fine,  well  set  up,  handsome 
man,  in  the  army,  a  soldier's  career  before  him.  The 
breakdown  was  complete ;  it  made  me  suffer  to  look 
at  him.  I  never  went  again  and  I  do  not  think  he 
wanted  it.  If  ever  a  man  was  living  in  hell  upon 
earth  he  was;  the  wonder  is  it  did  not  kill  him." 

"How  terrible!"  she  said. 

"I  wonder  if  the  woman  suffers?  He  did  it  on 
her  account.  I  do  not  believe  he  is  guilty — I  am 
certain  he  is  not.  His  brother  believes  in  his  inno- 
cence, so  does  Captain  Bruce,  and  all  his  friends. 
I  believe  it  is  the  knowledge  that  he  is  innocent 
sustains  him  in  his  awful  life;  he  told  me  he  hoped 
one  day  to  prove  his  innocence,  but  that  his  lips 
were  sealed,  he  could  not  speak.  I  told  him  that 
was  foolish,  that  it  was  due  to  himself  to  speak,  but 
he  shook  his  head  and  said,  'Impossible!'  " 

"Is  it  a  very  terrible  place  at  Dartmoor?" 

"I  suppose  it  is  like  all  such  prisons;  but  think 
what  it  must  be  for  an  innocent  man  to  be  caged 
there  with  a  lot  of  desperate  criminals,  the  scum  of 
the  earth.  What  must  it  be  for  such  a  man  as 
Hector  Woodridge,  cultured,  refined,  an  army  man, 
well-bred — and  on  the  top  of  it  all  the  knowledge 
that  the  disgrace  killed  his  father.  It  would  drive 
me  mad." 

"And  me  too,"  she  said.  "You  say  he  is  there 
still?" 


170  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Yes;  there  is  no  chance  of  his  escaping.  I  wish 
he  could." 

"A  prisoner  escaped  when  I  was  at  Torquay.  I 
saw  it  in  the  local  paper,"  she  said. 

"So  did  I;  the  fellow  had  a  terrible  fight  with  a 
bloodhound  and  strangled  it.  A  desperate  man  has 
desperate  strength,"  he  said. 

"I  met  an  old  boatman  named  Brack  there;  he 
told  me  the  man  must  be  dead." 

"No  doubt ;  fell  down  a  disused  mine,  or  drowned 
himself,  poor  devil.     I  don't  wonder  at  it,"  he  said. 

"I  wonder  how  the  woman  feels  about  it?"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice.  "She  must  suffer,  her  con- 
science must  trouble  her,  in  a  way  her  life  must 
be  as  hard  to  bear  as  his." 

"That  depends  on  the  woman,"  he  said.  "I  be- 
lieve she  can  prove  his  innocence;  something  tells 
me  she  can;  his  brother  believes  it  too.  If  this  be 
bo,  she  ought  to  speak  and  save  him,  no  matter  at 
what  cost  to  herself." 

"Do  you  think  she  will?" 

"No ;  or  she  would  have  spoken  before.  She  must 
be  callous,  hard-hearted,  dead  to  all  sense  of  human 
feeling.  Such  a  woman  would  make  me  shudder 
to  come  in  contact  with  her,"  he  said. 

She  smiled  as  she  thought :  "He  little  knows  I  am 
that  woman.  I  must  wait.  If  he  loves  me  later  on 
I  can  tell  him." 


"WHAT  WOULD  YOU  DO?"       171 

"Perhaps  the  woman  cannot  prove  his  innocence. 
She  may  believe  him  guilty." 

"Impossible.  There  were  only  three  persons  pres- 
ent:  the  husband,  the  wife,  and  Hector  Wood- 
ridge." 

"It  seems  very  strange  that  if  he  is  innocent  she 
has  not  declared  the  truth." 

"Steeped  in  wickedness  and  sin  as  she  is,  I  do 
not  wonder  at  it;  she  is  probably  living  in  the  world, 
leading  a  fast  life,  ruining  men  as  she  ruined  him." 

"Or  she  may  be  suffering  agonies  and  be  too  much 
of  a  coward  to  speak ;  she  may  be  an  object  of  pity ; 
perhaps  if  you  saw  her  you  would  be  sorry  for  her, 
as  sorry  as  you  are  for  him,"  she  said. 

"He  is  in  prison,  she  is  free ;  she  has  the  world 
to  distract  her,  he  has  nothing." 

"You  spoke  of  torture  of  the  mind.  Perhaps 
she  is  a  sensitive  woman;  if  so,  her  sufferings  are 
as  terrible  as  his." 

"If  you  were  the  woman,  what  would  you  do?" 
he  asked. 

The  question  was  put  with  an  abruptness  that 
startled  her ;  again  a  feeling  of  fear  was  uppermost. 
It  was  strange  he  should  know  Hector  Woodridge  ; 
still  more  curious  that  he  was  on  the  Sea-mew  in 
Torbay.  He  must  know  if  Hector  Woodridge 
boarded  the  yacht ;  was  he  concealing  something  ? 


172  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"I  do  not  know  what  I  should  do.  It  would 
depend  upon  circumstances." 

"What  circumstances?"  he  asked. 

"If  I  knew  he  was  innocent,  I  should  speak,  I 
think — that  is,  if  I  could  prove  it." 

"She  must  be  able  to  prove  it,"  he  said.  "I  be- 
lieve he  is  suffering,  keeping  silent,  to  save  her." 

"If  he  is,  his  conduct  is  heroic,"  she  said. 

"Foolish — a  sin  and  a  shame  that  he  should 
waste  his  life  for  such  a  woman." 

"You  think  her  a  very  bad  woman?" 

"I  do,  one  of  the  worst,"  he  said. 

She  sighed. 

"I  am  glad  I  have  never  been  placed  in  such 
an  unfortunate  position,"  she  said. 

"So  am  I,  but  I  am  sure  if  you  had  been,  Hector 
Woodridge  would  be  a  free  man,"  he  said. 

"I  wonder  if  he  loved  her?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"Loved  her?  He  must  have  done  so.  Think 
how  he  is  suffering  for  her ;  he  must  love  her  still," 
he  said. 

"Perhaps  she  does  not  know  this." 

"She  ought  to  know;  all  his  actions  speak  of  love 
for  her.  No  man  ever  made  a  greater  sacrifice 
for  a  woman,"  he  said.  Then,  looking  at  his  watch, 
he  added,  "It  is  time  for  me  to  go,  to  meet  Mr. 
Denver.    He  is  a  great  friend  of  yours,  is  he  not?" 

"I  should  not  call  him  a  friend  exactly,  although 


"WHAT  WOULD  YOU  DO?'       173 

I  have  known  him  a  long  time;  he  is  useful  to  me 
in  business  matters,"  she  said. 

"Can  I  be  of  any  use  in  that  way?"  he  asked. 

"You  might;  I  will  ask  you  if  I  require  any- 
thing." 

"And  then  I  shall  be  an  acquaintance,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

"Would  you  rather  be  my  friend  ?" 

"Yes." 

She  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  do  not  think  that  will  be  difficult,"  she  said, 
her  eyes  flashing  into  his. 


CHAPTER  XX 

RITA    SEES   A    RESEMBLANCE 

SOME  acquaintanceships  ripen  fast  into  friend- 
ship ;  it  was  so  with  Lenise  Elroy  and  Hector, 
at  least  on  her  side.  She  knew  him  as  William 
Rolfe  and  as  such  he  appealed  to  her.  At  times  he 
reminded  her  in  a  vague  way  of  Hector  Woodridge ; 
she  liked  him  none  the  worse  for  this,  although  it 
brought  back  painful  memories.  She  was  fast  drift- 
ing into  the  ocean  of  love  where  she  would  be  tossed 
about,  buffeted  by  the  waves,  and  probably  dam- 
aged. The  impression  he  made  on  her  was  not 
easily  effaced ;  she  began  to  neglect  Fletcher  Denyer, 
much  to  his  mortification.  Before  she  met  Rolfe 
their  connection  had  been  smooth,  going  on  the 
even  tenor  of  its  way,  with  nothing  to  mar  the 
harmony,  but  this  new  acquaintance  proved  a  dis- 
turbing element  and  she  was  no  longer  the  same 
to  him.  He  resented  it  but  could  do  nothing;  he 
was  powerless.  He  spoke  to  her,  remonstrated,  and 
she  laughed  at  him;  it  was  of  no  use  tackling  Rolfe, 
who  would  probably  tell  him  to  mind  his  business. 
He  had,  however,  no  intention  of  relinquishing 
174 


RITA  SEES  A  RESEiMBLANCE      175 

what  little  hold  he  had  over  her,  and  tried  to  make 
himself  more  indispensable.  Rolfe  was  friendly, 
took  a  hint  as  to  some  speculative  shares  and  made 
money. 

It  was  September  and  the  St.  Leger  day  drew 
near.  Hector  had  not  forgotten  Tearaway.  He 
did  not  write  to  his  brother;  he  thought  it  better 
not,  safer.  He  watched  the  papers  and  saw  the  filly 
occasionally  quoted  at  a  hundred  to  four  taken.  The 
secret  of  the  trial  had  been  well  kept,  nothing  leaked 
out  about  it.  Ripon  was  a  firm  favorite  at  three 
to  one,  and  all  the  wise  men  at  Newmarket  were 
sanguine  of  his  success.  Bronze  was  much  fancied 
in  certain  quarters,  and  Harriet,  The  Monk,  and 
Field  Gun,  frequently  figured  in  the  list;  there  was 
every  prospect  of  a  larger  field  than  usual. 

Fletcher  Denyer  often  talked  about  racing  with 
Hector,  who  was  quite  willing  to  discuss  the  chances 
of  horses  with  him. 

"I  am  told  on  the  best  authority  Bronze  will  win," 
said  Fletcher.     "What  do  you  fancy,  Rolfe?" 

"I  haven't  thought  much  about  it,"  replied  Hector. 
"If  Bronze  is  as  good  as  they  make  out,  he  must 
have  a  chance." 

"If  you  want  to  back  him  I  can  get  your  money 
on  at  a  good  price,"  said  Fletcher. 

"I'll  think  it  over,"  said  Hector. 

Mrs.  Elroy  was  also  interested  in  the  St.  Leger. 


176  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

She  knew  the  owner  of  Ripon,  who  told  her  he  did 
not  think  his  horse  had  anything  to  fear.  This 
news  was  imparted  to  Hector. 

"Are  you  going  to  Doncaster?"  she  asked. 

He  said  he  was,  that  he  always  liked  to  see  the 
St.  Leger  run. 

"I  think  I  shall  go,"  she  said.  "I  have  been  asked 
to  join  a  house  party  near  Doncaster." 

Hector  wondered  how  it  came  about  that  a  wom- 
an who  had  behaved  so  badly  could  be  so  soon 
forgiven,  and  her  past  forgotten. 

"Then  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
there,"  he  said. 

"I  hope  so.  Your  friend  Mr.  Woodridge  has 
something  in  the  race — Tearaway,  is  it  not?  I  sup- 
pose she  hasn't  got  much  of  a  chance,  it  is  such 
a  good  price  about  her,"  she  said. 

"No,  I  don't  expect  she  has  or  she  would  not 
be  at  such  long  odds,"  he  answered. 

"There  have  been  some  big  surprises  in  the  St. 
Leger,"  she  said. 

"It  doesn't  look  like  one  this  year,"  he  replied. 

A  few  days  before  the  Doncaster  meeting,  Hector 
went  to  Haverton,  where  he  had  a  warm  welcome. 
Sir  Robert  Raines  was  there,  Captain  Ben,  and  one 
or  two  more,  including  Dick  Langford,  and  Rita. 
Lady  Raines  came  to  act  as  hostess  for  Picton  and 
brought  two  of  her  daughters ;  it  was  the  knowledge 


RITA  SEES  A  RESEMBLANCE     177 

that  she  would  be  there  induced  Rita  to  come  with 
her  brother. 

At  first  Picton  hesitated  to  ask  her;  she  had 
never  been  to  Haverton;  but  finally  he  decided. 
Lady  Raines  and  her  daughters  would  be  there,  it 
would  be  all  right  and  proper.  He  was  delighted 
when  he  heard  she  had  arranged  to  come  with  Dick. 

Hector  came  the  following  day  after  their  arriv- 
al. He  first  saw  Rita  in  the  garden  with  Picton. 
He  recognized  her  at  once :  it  was  the  lady  who 
had  been  so  kind  to  him  on  his  way  from  Dartmoor 
to  Torquay.  He  saw  how  close  they  walked  to- 
gether, how  confidential  was  their  talk,  and  guessed 
the  rest.  He  recognized  this  with  a  pang;  he  had 
built  castles  in  the  air  about  her,  which,  like  most 
such  edifices,  are  easily  shattered.  Would  she 
know  him  again  as  the  tramp  she  helped  on  the 
road  ?  It  was  not  likely.  In  the  first  place,  he  was 
greatly  changed,  and  secondly  she  would  never  ex- 
pect to  find  him  here.  He  smiled  grimly  as  he 
thought  of  the  condition  he  was  in  the  last  time 
they  met.  He  went  out  to  face  her  and  walked 
toward  them. 

Picton  introduced  them.  She  started  slightly  as 
she  looked  at  him. 

"I  thought  I  had  seen  you  somewhere  before," 
she  said  with  a  bright  smile.     "You  quite  startled 


178  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

me,  but  I  dare  not  tell  you  about  it,  it  is  quite  too 
ridiculous." 

"You  have  roused  my  curiosity.  Please  enlighten 
me,"  he  said. 

"You  are  quite  sure  you  will  not  be  offended?" 
She  looked  at  them  both. 

"I  shall  not,  and  I  am  the  principal  person  to 
consider,"  said  Hector. 

"Then,  if  you  promise  not  to  be  angry  with  me, 
I  will;  after  all,  I  am  sure  he  was  a  gentleman 
although  in  reduced  circumstances,"  she  said. 

"Who  was  a  gentleman?"  asked  Picton. 

"The  man  I  for  the  moment  fancied  resembled 
Mr.  Rolfe,"  she  said.  "It  was  the  day  you  came 
to  Tor  wood." 

Rita  told  them  about  the  tramp  she  had  be- 
friended, and  added : 

"He  was  a  well-bred  man  who  must  have  met 
with  some  great  misfortune.  I  pitied  him,  my 
heart  bled  for  him ;  he  was  no  common  man,  it  was 
easy  to  recognize  that.  He  thanked  me  courteously 
and  went  on  his  way  down  the  road.  I  have  often 
thought  of  him  since  and  wondered  what  became 
of  him.  When  you  first  came  up,  Mr.  Rolfe,  you 
reminded  me  of  him,  in  looks  and  build,  that  is 
all.     Have  I  offended  you?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Hector.  "You  are  quite  sure 
I  am  not  your  gentleman  tramp?    Look  again." 


RITA  SEES  A  RESEMBLANCE     179 

"Don't  be  absurd!  Of  course  you  are  not  the 
man ;  it  was  a  mere  passing  resemblance,"  she  said. 

"You  did  a  very  kindly  action,  and  I  am  sure  the 
man,  whoever  he  is,  will  never  forget  it,  or  you. 
Perhaps  at  some  future  time  he  may  repay  your 
kindness.  Who  knows?  There  are  some  strange 
chances  in  the  world,  so  many  ups  and  downs,  I 
should  not  at  all  wonder  if  you  met  him  again  in 
a  very  different  sphere,"  said  Hector. 

Lady  Raines  and  her  daughters  came  on  to  the 
terrace  and  Rita  joined  them. 

"Whew!"  said  Hector,  "that  was  a  narrow 
squeak,  Pic.  I  went  hot  and  cold  all  over  when  I 
recognized  who  it  was  with  you,  but  I  thought 
I  had  better  come  out  and  face  the  music." 

"That's  about  the  closest  shave  you've  had,  but 
even  had  she  been  certain  she  would  only  have 
known  you  as  William  Rolfe." 

"I  forgot  that,"  said  Hector.  "Still,  it  is  better 
as  it  is.     I  say,  Pic,  is  she  the  one?" 

"I  hope  so,"  his  brother  replied,  laughing.  "I 
mean  to  have  a  good  try." 

"Lucky  fellow!"  said  Hector  with  a  sigh. 
"There's  no  such  chance  of  happiness  for  me." 

"There  may  be  some  day,"  said  Picton.  "You 
have  not  told  me  what  you  have  been  doing  in  Lon- 
don." 


180  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Plotting,"  said  Hector.  "I  am  on  the  way  to 
secure  my  revenge — I  shall  succeed." 

"Can't  you  give  me  some  idea  how  you  mean  to 
be  revenged?"  asked  Picton. 

"Not  at  present.  You  may  get  an  inkling  at 
Doncaster,  if  you  keep  your  eyes  open;  but  I  ex- 
pect all  your  attention  will  be  riveted  on  Tearaway," 
said  Hector. 

"That's  highly  probable.  One  doesn't  own  a 
Leger  winner  every  year,"  said  Picton. 

"Then  you  think  she  is  sure  to  win?" 

"Certain,  and  Sir  Robert  won't  hear  of  her  de- 
feat. He  has  backed  her  to  win  a  large  stake,  and 
he's  jubilant  about  it." 

"It  seems  strange  she  does  not  shorten  in  the 
betting,"  said  Hector. 

"I  don't  take  much  notice  of  that;  she's  not  a 
public  performer,  and  it  is  a  field  above  the  aver- 
age. If  it  had  leaked  out  about  the  trial  it  would 
have  been  different,  but  we  have  a  good  lot  of  lads 
at  Haverton ;  they  know  how  to  hold  their  tongues," 
said  Picton. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Pic,  I'd  like  to  let  old  Brack 
know.  Wouldn't  the  dear  old  boy  rejoice  at  get- 
ting on  a  twenty-five  to  one  chance ;  he'd  think  more 
of  it  than  anything.  Brackish,  boatman,  Torquay, 
would  find  him,"  said  Hector. 

"He  shall  know,"  said  Picton.      "I'll    tell    you 


RITA  SEES  A  RESEMBLANCE     181 

what,  it  would  be  a  joke  to  get  him  to  Doncaster 
for  the  St.  Leger.  I'll  send  Rose  down  to  hunt  him 
up  and  bring  him." 

''I'm  afraid  Rose  would  look  askance  at  Brack, 
he's  such  a  highly  superior  person,"  said  Hector. 

"I  fancy  Brack  would  break  his  reserve  down 
before  they  reached  Doncaster,"  said  Picton.  "I 
shall  send  him,  anyway." 


CHAPTER  XXI 


BRACK  TURNS  TRAVELER 


ROSE,  I  am  about  to  send  you  on  an  impor- 
tant mission  to  Torquay,"  said  Picton. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  are  to  find  an  old  boatman  named  Brack- 
ish, generally  called  Brack.  He  is  a  well-known 
character;  there  will  be  no  difficulty  about  it.  You 
will  hand  him  this  letter,  and  if  he  requires  per- 
suading you  will  use  all  your  eloquence  in  that  di- 
rection. You  will  give  him  ten  pounds  and  pay  all 
his  expenses,  and  you  must  land  him  in  the  paddock 
at  Doncaster  at  the  latest  on  the  St.  Leger  day. 
You  understand?" 

"Yes,  sir.  May  I  ask  what  kind  of  an  individual 
he  is?" 

"Rough  and  ready.  He  was  formerly  a  boatman 
at  Scarborough.  He  is  a  Yorkshireman.  He  will 
don  his  best  clothes;  perhaps  he  will  require  a  new 
pilot  coat — if  he  does,  buy  him  one." 

"And  what  am  I  to  do  when  I  land  him  in  the 
paddock,  sir?" 

182 


BRACK  TURNS  TRAVELER        183 

"Wait  until  I  see  him." 

"Very  good,  sir.     Is  that  all?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  Look  after  him  well ;  he  once 
did  me  a  good  turn.  You'll  find  him  interesting, 
also  amusing." 

"When  shall  I  go,  sir?" 

"To-morrow;  that  will  give  you  ample  time — a 
day  or  two  in  Torquay  will  be  a  pleasant  change." 

"Thank  you,  sir;  it  will,"  said  Rose. 

"Come  to  me  in  my  study  to-night  and  I  will  give 
you  the  money,"  said  Picton. 

Robert  Rose  thought,  as  he  watched  him  walk 
away :  "I  hope  he  doesn't  expect  me  to  make  a  friend 
of  the  man.  No  doubt  he'll  smell  of  the  sea,  and 
fish,  tar,  oil-skins,  and  other  beastly  things;  it  won't 
be  a  pleasant  journey — we  shall  have  to  put  the 
windows  down.  I  wonder  if  he  washes,  or  wheth- 
er he's  caked  with  dirt,  like  some  of  'em  I've  seen. 
It's  coming  to  a  pretty  pass  when  I  am  dispatched 
on  such  an  errand." 

He  complained  to  Mrs.  Yeoman  but  got  no  sym- 
pathy. 

"If  Brack's  good  enough  for  your  master  he's 
good  enough  for  you,"  she  snapped,  and  he  thought 
it  advisable  not  to  pursue  the  subject  farther. 

Rose  arrived  in  Torquay  in  due  course,  late  at 
night,  after  a  tiring  journey.  Next  morning  he 
went  forth  in  quest  of  Brack.    A  policeman  pointed 


184  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

the  boatman  out  to  him.  Brack  was  leaning  against 
the  iron  rail  protecting  the  inner  harbor.  Rose 
looked  at  him  in  disgust.  Brack  had  met  a  friend 
the  night  before  and  they  had  indulged  somewhat 
freely  in  ale.  He  was  all  right  but  looked  rather 
seedy  and  unkempt. 

Rose  walked  up  to  him,  putting  on  his  best  air. 
Brack  saw  him  and  summed  him  up  at  once. 

"Somebody's  flunkey,"  he  thought. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Brackish?"  asked  Rose  in  a  pa- 
tronizing manner. 

"I'm  Brack,  name  Brackish,  don't  know  about  the 
mister,  seldom  hear  it  used  when  I'm  addressed. 
Now  who  may  you  be,  my  good  man?"  said  Brack, 
mischief  lurking  in  his  eyes. 

To  be  addressed  by  this  clod  of  a  boatman  as 
"my  good  man"  quite  upset  Rose's  dignity.  He  put 
on  a  severe  look,  which  .did  not  abash  Brack  in  the 
least,  and  said :  "I  am  from  Haverton  in  York- 
shire. I  represent  Mr.  Picton  Woodridge.  He  de- 
sired me  to  see  you  and  deliver  this 'letter,"  and  he 
handed  it  to  him. 

Brack  took  it,  opened  the  envelope,  and  handed 
it  back. 

"I've  lost  my  glasses,"  he  said;  "must  have  left 
them  in  'The  Sailor's  Rest'  last  night.  Me  an'  a 
mate  had  a  few  pints  more  than  we  oughter.    Why 


BRACK  TURNS  TRAVELER        185 

the  deuce  didn't  he  post  the  letter  and  save  you  the 
trouble  of  comin'  to  see  me?" 

"It  suited  Mr.  Woodridge's  purpose  better  that 
I  should  personally  deliver  it.  I  will  read  it  to  you 
if  you  wish." 

"That's  what  I  gave  it  to  you  for,"  said  Brack. 

Rose  read  the  letter.  It  was  written  in  a  kind 
and  friendly  way;  Robert  thought  it  too  familiar. 
Brack  listened  attentively ;  at  first  he  hardly  grasped 
the  full  meaning. 

"Would  you  mind  reading  it  again  ?"  he  asked. 

Rose  did  so  with  ill-concealed  impatience;  then 
said :  "Now  do  you  understand  its  import,  or  shall 
I  explain  more  fully?" 

"Don't  trouble  yourself.  I  wouldn't  trouble  such 
an  almighty  high  personage  as  yourself  for  the 
world,"  said  Brack. 

"No  trouble  at  all,  I  assure  you,"  said  Rose. 

"As  far  as  I  understand,"  said  Brack,  "I'm  to 
put  myself  in  your  charge  and  you  are  to  convey  me 
safely  to  Doncaster  to  see  the  Leger  run  for." 

"That's  it;  we  will  leave  to-morrow,"  said  Rose. 

"Will  we  ?    Who  said  I  was  goin'  ?"  asked  Brack. 

"Of  course  you'll  go;  Mr.  Picton  wishes  it." 

"He  ain't  my  master,  just  you  remember.  Brack's 
got  no  master.  I'm  my  own  boss,  and  a  pretty  stiff 
job  I  have  with  myself  at  times.  Last  night,  for 
instance.     As  boss  I  ordered  myself  home  at  ten; 


186  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

as  Brack  I  went  on  strike  and  declined  to  move — 
see?" 

"But  he  will  be  very  much  disappointed  if  you 
don't  go  to  Doncaster  with  me.  All  your  expenses 
will  be  paid.  You'll  have  ten  pounds  to  invest  on 
the  course,  and  you'll  back  Tearaway,  say  at  twenty 
to  one  to  a  fiver,"  said  Rose. 

"Shall  I  indeed  ?  And  pray  who  says  Tearaway 
will  win  the  Leger?" 

"I  do,"  said  Rose  confidently. 

"And  I  suppose  that  settles  it.  If  you  say  so, 
she  must  win." 

"Mr.  Picton  says  she  will;  so  does  Sir  Robert 
Raines." 

"Do  they  now  ?  And  I'm  to  take  all  this  for  gos- 
pel?" 

"It's  quite  correct.  They  have  all  backed  Tear- 
away to  win  large  sums,  thousands  of  pounds,"  said 
Rose. 

"Well,  it's  worth  considering,"  said  Brack.  He 
wondered  if  Hector  Woodridge  were  at  Haverton. 
It  was  not  mentioned  in  the  letter.  Perhaps  this 
man  did  not  know  him;  he  would  keep  quiet  about 
it. 

"You'll  have  to  make  up  your  mind  quick  because 
we  must  leave  early  in  the  morning.  I  was  in- 
structed to  buy  you  a  new  coat,  or  any  other  thing 
you  wanted." 


BRACK  TURNS  TRAVELER        187 

"That's  handsome;  I'll  accept  the  coat,  a  blue 
pilot,  and  a  pair  of  boots,  a  tie,  and  a  cap.  I've 
got  a  fancy  waistcoat  my  father  used  to  wear.  It's 
all  over  flowers  and  it's  got  pearl  buttons.  It's  a 
knock-out;  you'll  admire  it — perhaps  you'd  like  to 
borrow  it,"  said  Brack. 

Rose  declined,  said  he  would  not  deprive  Brack 
of  it  for  worlds. 

"You'll  come  with  me?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes;  I'll  come  to  oblige  Mr.  Woodridge; 
he's  a  gent  and  no  mistake.  Will  you  come  and  see 
my  old  mother?" 

Rose  thought  it  would  be  diplomatic  to  do  so. 
Evidently  Brack  was  a  man  who  wanted  humor- 
ing; it  was  humiliating,  but  he  must  go  through 
with  it. 

Old  Mrs.  Brackish  welcomed  the  visitor,  dusted 
a  chair  for  him,  treated  him  with  apparent  defer- 
ence which  soothed  Rose's  feelings.  He  declined 
to  remain  for  dinner,  making  as  an  excuse  that  he 
never  ate  anything  until  evening,  it  did  not  agree 
with  him,  the  mid-day  meal.  When  he  left  it  was 
with  a  sense  of  relief. 

"The  mother  is  better  than  the  son,"  he  thought; 
"she  knew  what  was  due  to  my  position." 

"He's  a  pompous  old  fool,"  she  said  to  Brack 
when  he  was  out  of  the  house. 


188  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Brack  laughed  as  he  said  :  "You've  hit  it,  mother; 
you  generally  do." 

"An'  so  you're  agoin'  to  Yorkshire,"  she  said 
with  a  sigh.  "Sometimes  I  wish  I  were  back  there, 
but  it  wouldn't  suit  me,  and  he's  been  very  good 
to  us  here,  Brack." 

"We've  nowt  to  grumble  at,"  said  Brack.  "We're 
better  off  than  lots  o'  people.  I  may  make  a  bit 
o'  money  at  Doncaster  on  Leger  day — you  know 
how  lucky  I  am  over  the  race." 

"You  oughtn't  to  bet,"  she  said. 

"I  don't.  My  bit  isn't  bettin' ;  I  just  put  a  shillin' 
on  now  and  again  for  the  fun  of  the  thing.  Where's 
the  harm  in  that?"  he  asked. 

"I  suppose  you  know  best,  Brack,  and  you've 
always  been  a  good  son  to  me,"  she  said. 

"And  I  always  shall,  have  no  fear  of  that,  moth- 
er." And  she  had  not;  her  faith  in  him  was  un- 
bounded. 

Brack  looked  quite  rakish,  so  he  told  himself, 
when  he  gazed  in  a  mirror  in  the  hat  shop  next  day, 
on  the  way  to  the  station.  He  had  been  to  the  bar- 
ber's, had  his  whiskers  and  mustache  trimmed,  his 
hair  cut,  and  a  shampoo. 

"I'm  fresh  as  paint,"  he  said  to  Rose,  who  was 
glad  to  see  him  so  respectable.  The  smell  of  the 
sea  hung  about  him,  but  it  was  tempered  by  some 


BRACK  TURNS  TRAVELER        189 

very  patent  hair  oil  which  emitted  an  overpowering 
scent. 

Several  porters  spoke  to  Brack,  asking  where  he 
was  going. 

"Doncaster  to  see  the  Leger  run." 

They  laughed  and  one  said :  "Bet  you  a  bob  you 
don't  get  farther  than  Exeter." 

"Don't  want  to  rob  you,  Tommy,"  was  the  reply. 
"I'll  give  you  chaps  a  tip — have  a  shilling  or  two 
on  Tearaway." 

"Never  heard  of  him." 

"It's  a  her,  not  a  he." 

"Whose  is  she?" 

"Mr.  Woodridge's,  Picton  Woodridge's." 

"The  gentleman  who  rode  four  winners  here  last 
Easter,  and  won  the  double  on  The  Rascal  ?" 

"The  same,  and  he's  given  me  the  tip." 

"Nonsense !" 

"Gospel,"  said  Brack. 

"You  must  have  come  into  a  fortune;  it'll  cost 
you  a  pot  of  money  going  to  Doncaster." 

"Mr.  Woodridge  is  paying  my  expenses.  He 
kind  o'  took  a  likin'  to  me  when  he  was  here;  I 
rowed  him  to  his  yacht  several  times.  He's  one  of 
the  right  sort,  he  is,"  said  Brack. 

"You're  in  luck's  way,"  said  the  porter  he  had 
addressed  as  Tommy. 


igo  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"It's  men  like  me  deserve  to  have  luck — I'm  a 
hard  worker." 

"We're  all  hard  workers,"  said  Tom. 

"Go  on!  Call  trundling  barrers,  and  handlin' 
bags  hard  work  ?  Rowin's  hard  work.  You  try  it, 
and  you'll  find  the  difference,"  said  Brack. 

Tom  laughed  as  he  said:  "You're  a  good  sort, 
Brack,  and  I  wish  you  success.    This  is  your  train." 

Rose  came  up. 

"I've  got  the  tickets.  Is  this  the  London  train, 
porter?" 

"Yes,  right  through  to  Paddington,"  said  Tom, 
staring  as  he  saw  Rose  and  Brack  get  in  together. 

"Who  is  he,  Brack,  your  swell  friend  ?"  he  asked. 

"Him?  Oh,  he's  a  cousin  from  Yorkshire," 
grinned  Brack;  and  Rose  sank  down  on  the  seat 
overwhelmed. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


DONCASTER 


BRACK  and  Rose  arrived  at  Doncaster  on  the 
eve  of  the  St.  Leger,  staying  at  a  quiet  hotel 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  The  railway  journey 
from  Torquay  had  been  a  source  of  anxiety  to  Rose. 
Brack  made  audible  observations  about  the  occu- 
pants of  the  carriage,  which  were  resented,  and 
Rose  exercised  diplomacy  to  keep  the  peace.  He 
was  horrified  to  see  Brack  pull  a  black  bottle  out 
of  his  bag. 

"Beer,"  said  Brack;  "will  you  have  some?" 
Rose  declined  in  disgust;  Brack  pulled  at  it  long 
and  lustily,  emptied  it  before  reaching  Exeter,  got 
out  there,  went  into  the  refreshment  room,  had  it 
refilled,  and  nearly  missed  his  train;  Rose  pulled, 
a  porter  pushed  behind,  and  he  stumbled  in  just  in 
time;  the  bottle  dropped  on  the  floor,  rolled  under 
the  seat,  and  Brack  created  a  diversion  among 
the  passengers  by  diving  for  it.  He  generously 
passed  it  round,  but  no  one  partook  of  his  hospi- 
tality.    It  was  a  relief  to  Rose  when  he  went  to 

191 


192  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

sleep,  but  he  snored  so  loud  he  thought  it  advisable 
to  wake  him.  Brack  resented  this,  and  said  he  was 
entitled  to  snore  if  he  wished. 

It  was  with  evident  relief  that  Rose  saw  him  go  to 
bed.  When  Brack  disappeared  he  related  his  mis- 
fortunes to  his  host,  who  sympathized  with  him  to 
his  face  and  laughed  behind  his  back :  he  considered 
Brack  the  better  man  of  the  two. 

At  breakfast  Rose  explained  what  Doncaster  was 
like  in  Leger  week,  until  Brack,  with  his  mouth 
crammed  with  ham,  and  half  a  poached  egg,  spurted 
out,  "You're  wastin'  yer  breath.  I've  been  to  see 
t'Leger  many  a  time." 

"Have  you?    I  thought  this  was  your  first  visit." 

"And  me  a  Yorkshireman — go  on!"  said  Brack. 

They  drove  to  the  course  in  the  landlord's  trap, 
arriving  in  good  time. 

"I  suppose  you  have  not  been  in  the  paddock  be- 
fore?" said  Rose  patronizingly. 

"No;  I've  been  over  yonder  most  times,"  and 
he  waved  toward  the  crowd  on  the  moor. 

"Follow  me  and  I  will  conduct  you." 

Brack  laughed. 

"You're  a  rum  cove,  you  are.  What  do  you  do 
when  you're  at  home?" 

"I  am  Mr.  Woodridge's  general  manager,"  said 
Rose  loftily. 

"You  don't  say  so!     Now  I  should  have  thought 


DONCASTER  193 

you'd  been  the  head  footman,  or  something  of  that 
kind,"  said  Brack. 

"You  are  no  judge  of  men,"  said  Rose. 

"I'd  never  mistake  you  for  one,"  growled  Brack. 

When  they  were  in  the  paddock  Rose  was  anx- 
ious to  get  rid  of  him,  but  he  had  his  orders,  and 
must  wait  until  Mr.  Woodridge  saw  them. 

Brack  attracted  attention;  he  was  a  strange  bird 
in  the  midst  of  this  gayly  plumaged  crowd,  but  he 
was  quite  at  home,  unaware  he  was  a  subject  of 
observation. 

At  last  Picton  Woodridge  saw  him  and  came  up. 

"Well,  Brack,  I  am  glad  you  came,"  he  said  as 
he  shook  hands.     "I  hope  Rose  looked  after  you." 

"He  did  very  well.  He's  not  a  jovial  mate,  a 
trifle  stuck  up  and  so  on,  gives  himself  airs;  expect 
he's  considered  a  decent  sort  in  his  own  circle — 
in  the  servants'  hall,"  said  Brack. 

Picton  caught  sight  of  Rose's  face  and  burst  out 
laughing. 

"Speaks  his  mind,  eh,  Rose?"  he  said.  "You 
may  leave  us." 

"He's  a  rum  'un,"  said  Brack.     "What  is  he?" 

"My  butler ;  I  thought  I  had  better  send  him  for 
you  in  case  you  were  undecided  whether  to  come. 
I  am  glad  you  are  here;  and,  Brack,  I  have  a  cau- 
tion to  give  you.     No  one  knows  my  brother,  he 


i94  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

is  so  changed.     If  you  recognize  him,   say  noth- 
ing— it  would  be  dangerous." 

"I'll  be  dumb,  never  fear,"  said  Brack.  "I 
thank  you  for  giving  me  this  treat;  it's  a  long  time 
since  I  saw  t'Leger  run.  Your  man  tells  me  Tear- 
away  will  win." 

"I  feel  certain  of  it.  You  had  better  put  a  lit- 
tle on  her  at  twenty  to  one,"  said  Picton. 

"I  will,  and  thank  you.  It  was  kind  to  give  me 
ten  pounds." 

"You  deserve  it,  and  you  shall  have  more,  Brack. 
If  my  filly  wins  to-day  you  shall  have  a  hundred 
pounds  and  a  new  boat." 

"Good  Lord!"  exclaimed  Brack.  "A  hundred 
pounds!  It's  as  much  as  I've  saved  all  the  time 
I've  been  in  Torquay — and  a  new  boat,  it's  too 
much,  far  too  much." 

"No,  it  isn't.  Remember  what  you  risked  for 
us." 

"That's  him,  isn't  it?"  said  Brack,  pointing  to 
Hector,  who  had  his  back  to  them.  "I  recognize 
his  build." 

"I'm  glad  no  one  else  has,"  said  Picton.  "Yes, 
that's  he." 

Hector,  turning  round,  saw  Brack,  came  up,  and 
spoke  to  him.  Picton  said:  "This  is  Mr.  Rolfe, 
William  Rolfe,  you  understand?" 


DONCASTER  195 

Brack  nodded  as  he  said :  "He's  changed.  I'd 
hardly  have  known  his  face." 

It  was  before  the  second  race  that  Hector  met 
Lenise  Elroy  in  the  paddock  with  her  friends.  She 
was  not  present  on  the  first  day  and,  strange  to 
say,  he  missed  her  society.  It  startled  him  to  rec- 
ognize this.  Surely  he  was  not  falling  into  her  toils, 
coming  under  her  spell,  for  the  second  time,  and 
after  all  he  had  suffered  through  her!  Of  course 
not;  it  was  because  of  the  revenge  burning  in  him 
that  he  was  disappointed.  How  beautiful  she  was, 
and  how  gracefully  she  walked  across  the  paddock; 
she  was  perfectly  dressed,  expensively,  but  in  good 
taste.  She  was  recognized  by  many  people,  some 
of  whom  knew  her  past,  and  looked  askance  at  her. 

Hector  went  toward  her.  She  saw  him  and  a 
bright  smile  of  welcome  lit  up  her  face. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said. 

They  walked  away  together,  after  she  had  in- 
troduced him  to  one  or  two  of  her  friends. 

Brack  saw  them  and  muttered  to  himself : 
"That's  the  lady  was  making  inquiries  about  him 
at  Torquay,  and  she  doesn't  know  who  he  is;  she 
can't.  Wonder  what  her  game  is,  and  his?  She 
knows  Hackler  too.  There  may  be  danger.  I'd 
best  give  him  a  hint  if  I  get  a  chance." 

"What  will  win  the  St.  Leger,  Mr.  Rolfe?"  she 
asked. 


196  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Ripon,  I  suppose;  that  is  your  tip,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  they  are  very  confident.  His  owner  is  one 
of  our  party;  we  are  all  on  it.  Have  you  backed 
anything  ?" 

"I  have  a  modest  investment  on  Tearaway;  I 
am  staying  at  Haverton  with  Mr.  Woodridge,"  he 
said. 

"You  appear  to  have  faith  in  the  filly." 

"Oh,  it's  only  a  fancy;  she  may  not  be  as  good 
as  they  think,"  he  said. 

Picton  saw  them  together.  He  was  surprised, 
startled ;  he  thought  of  Hector's  remark  about  keep- 
ing his  eyes  open.  He  recognized  Mrs.  Elroy,  al- 
though he  had  not  seen  her  for  several  years.  What 
a  terrible  risk  Hector  ran !  Was  it  possible  she  did 
not  recognize  him,  that  she  really  thought  he  was 
William  Rolfe?  It  seemed  incredible  after  all  that 
had  happened.  Was  she  deceiving  Hector  as  he 
was  her?  Picton  remembered  his  brother  had 
spoken  about  a  plan,  and  revenge.  What  was  his 
intention?  If  Mrs.  Elroy  did  not  know  he  was 
Hector  Woodridge,  then  indeed  his  brother  had  a 
weapon  in  his  hands  which  might  help  him  to 
awful  vengeance;  the  mere  possibility  of  what  might 
happen  made  Picton  shudder.  Hector  had  suffered 
terribly,  but  was  it  sufficient  to  condone  a  revenge, 
the  consequences  of  which  no  one  could  foresee? 
They    appeared    quite    happy    together.     Had    his 


DONCASTER  197 

brother  fallen  under  her  spell  for  the  second  time? 
No,  that  was  not  possible;  it  was  not  in  human  na- 
ture to  forgive  such  injuries  as  she  had  inflicted 
upon  him.  Mrs.  Elroy  saw  Picton,  recognized  him, 
and  said  to  Hector :  "That  is  your  friend  Mr. 
Woodridge,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes;  do  you  know  him?" 

"No." 

"Would  you  care  to  be  introduced?" 

"As  you  please,"  she  replied;  she  was  thankful 
when  Picton  went  away  with  Sir  Robert,  and  the 
introduction  was  avoided. 

"There  will  be  an  opportunity  later  on,"  said 
Hector.     "When  are  you  returning  to  town?" 

"After  the  races,  on  Saturday." 

"From  Doncaster?" 

"Yes." 

"What  train  do  you  travel  by?" 

She  named  a  train  in  the  afternoon. 

"May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company?" 
he  asked. 

"I  shall  be  delighted  if  you  wish  it." 

"I  do,"  he  said.  "Nothing  will  give  me  greater 
pleasure." 

"Then  I  shall  expect  you,"  she  said,  with  a 
glance  he  knew  well,  as  she  rejoined  her  friends. 

Undoubtedly  Lenise  Elroy  was  one  of  the  most 
attractive  women  at  the  races;  there  was  just  that 


198  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

touch  of  uncertainty  about  her  mode  of  living  which 
caused  men  to  turn  and  look  at  her,  and  women  to 
avoid  her  when  possible. 

Sir  Robert  Raines,  when  he  saw  her,  said  to 
Picton :  "I  wonder  she  dare  show  her  face  here 
in  Yorkshire;  some  women  have  no  shame  in 
them.', 

"She  is  a  wicked  woman,  Bob;  she  ought  to  be 
in  prison  instead  of  poor  Hector.  I  believed  at  the 
trial  she  shot  Elroy,  and  I  always  shall,"  said  his 
wife. 

"Who  is  that  beautiful  woman  who  was  talking 
to  Mr.  Rolfe?"  asked  Rita. 

"She  is  Mrs.  Elroy,"  said  Picton. 

Rita  knew  nothing  about  Hector's  troubles;  she 
was  young  at  the  time  of  the  trial. 

Something  in  his  manner  of  speaking  caused  her 
to  ask:    "You  do  not  like  her?" 

"No;  she  is  a  woman  with  a  past,  a  very  bad 
past,  but  she  faces  it  out,  and  is  recognized  by  some 
people.  I  should  not  like  you  to  know  her,"  he 
said. 

"Men  are  very  unmerciful  to  a  woman  who  errs," 
she  said. 

"If  you  knew  as  much  about  her  as  I,  you  would 
agree  with  me  that  she  ought  to  be  treated  as  an 
outcast;  she  is  not  fit  to  be  in  the  company  of  re- 
spectable people,"  he  said  bitterly. 


DONCASTER  199 

This  was  so  unlike  Picton  that  she  felt  he  must 
have  strong  grounds  for  what  he  said.  Her  curi- 
osity was  aroused;  Mr.  Rolfe  might  enlighten  her. 

"Let  us  go  and  see  Tearaway,"  she  said,  and  at 
the  mention  of  his  favorite's  name  Picton's  face 
cleared,  the  shadows  flitted  away,  he  was  himself 
again. 

Brant  Blackett  came  up  hastily,  a  troubled  look 
on  his  face. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Picton  anxiously. 

"Erickson's  been  taken  suddenly  ill,"  he  said. 
"I'm  afraid  he'll  not  be  able  to  ride." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


THE  CROWD  IN  THE  RING 


THIS  was  a  serious  matter  indeed.  Erickson 
knew  the  mare  well,  having  ridden  her  in 
several  gallops;  in  addition  he  was  a  clever,  capable 
rider.  It  would  be  a  great  misfortune  if  he  could 
not  ride. 

Picton  went  with  his  trainer  at  once,  leaving 
Rita  with  her  brother  and  Hector. 

Fred  Erickson  looked  pale  and  ill;  he  was  not  a 
strong  man. 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  do  the  filly  justice,"  he  said, 
"but  I'll  ride  if  you  wish,  Mr.  Woodridge.  I  feel 
a  trifle  better  now,  but  I'm  weak." 

"I'd  like  you  to  ride,  Fred,  if  you  can  manage  it. 
I  can't  get  a  suitable  jockey  at  the  last  minute." 

"Then  I'll  do  it.     Will  you  get  me  some  brandy  ?" 

The  trainer  went  for  it,  a  small  group  gathered 
round,  Erickson  looked  very  pale,  there  were  whis- 
pers that  he  would  not  be  able  to  ride.  These 
quickly  spread,  and  when  some  of  the  people  from 
Haverton  village  heard  the  rumor  they  were  very 

200 


THE  CROWD  IN  THE  RING      201 

much  upset;  all  had  pinned  their  faith  to,  and  put 
their  money  on,  Tearaway. 

Several  came  to  Picton,  asking  him  if  there  was 
any  truth  in  it;  he  said  unfortunately  there  was, 
but  that  Erickson  would  be  able  to  ride,  he  thought. 
With  this  they  had  to  be  contented  and  wait.  It 
was  an  hour  before  the  St.  Leger  was  to  be  de- 
cided. Fred  Erickson  pulled  himself  together,  but 
he  was  afraid  he  would  not  be  able  to  do  the  mare 
justice;  he  would  try  his  best,  she  was  so  good  that 
if  he  managed  to  stick  on  and  guide  her  she  would 
run  her  own  race  and  probably  win. 

Sir  Robert  Raines  spoke  to  him;  he  was  very 
anxious,  he  had  a  large  sum  at  stake. 

"Feel  any  better,  Fred?  I  hope  so;  we  are  all 
depending  on  you  to  pull  through." 

"I'll  manage  it  somehow,  Sir  Robert,"  said  the 
jockey,  "but  I'm  not  myself  at  all.  I  wish  I  were. 
There'd  be  no  doubt  about  the  result  then." 

"But  you  are  strong  enough  to  ride,  you'll  not 
give  in?" 

Fred  smiled. 

"I'm  not  one  to  give  in.  I'll  ride  the  filly  and 
win  on  her  if  I  can,"  he  said. 

"That's  right,"  said  Sir  Robert.  "Can  I  get  you 
anything?  Would  a  glass  or  two  of  champagne 
brace  you  up?" 

"I've  had  a  liqueur  brandy,"  said  Fred. 


202  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"That  will  mix  with  the  champagne.  Come  with 
me." 

Fred  drank  two  glasses  and  felt  better;  the  color 
came  back  into  his  cheeks,  his  hands  were  firmer, 
the  shivering  left  him;  if  only  it  would  last  until 
Tearaway  had  won. 

All  was  bustle  and  excitement;  the  horses  were 
being  saddled  for  the  great  race,  fifteen  of  them,  a 
larger  field  than  usual. 

Ripon  was  a  hot  favorite,  and  it  was  probable 
he  would  start  at  two  to  one.  He  had  been  sec- 
ond to  Snowball  in  the  Derby,  and  ninety-nine  out 
of  a  hundred  people  who  saw  the  race  vowed  he 
was  unlucky  to  lose,  that  his  jockey  rode  a  bad 
race  on  him,  and  came  too  late.  Snowball  broke 
down  and  was  scratched  for  the  St.  Leger,  so  they 
could  not  fight  their  Epsom  battle  over  again ;  even 
had  this  been  the  case  Ripon  would  in  all  probability 
have  been  the  better  favorite.  Bronze,  Harriet, 
The  Monk,  Field  Gun,  Hot  Pot,  The  Major,  and 
Dark  Donald,  were  all  supported;  a  lot  of  money- 
was  going  on  Bronze.  Tearaway  had  been  backed 
at  a  hundred  to  five;  when  it  'was  known  Fred 
Erickson  was  not  well  her  market  position  was 
shaken  and  she  went  out  to  thirty-three  to  one. 

Fletcher  Denyer  was  in  the  ring.  Of  late  there 
had  been  some  coolness  between  him  and  Lenise. 
He  had  no  desire  to  lose  her ;  as  he  saw  her  slipping 


THE  CROWD  IN  THE  RING       203 

away  from  him  he  became  anxious  to  possess  her 
altogether.  He  recognized  at  last  that  he  was  in 
love,  that  she  was  necessary  to  him,  part  of  his  life, 
that  it  would  be  very  dull  without  her.  Chance 
might  put  something  in  his  way ;  he  was  a  believer 
in  luck.  If  only  he  could  discover  something  about 
this  man  Rolfe,  who  had  come  between  them.  No 
one  appeared  to  know  anything  about  him.  He 
had  made  inquiries  in  various  quarters;  William 
Rolfe  had  never  been  heard  of.  It  seemed  strange, 
a  man  with  money  too,  and  moving  in  racing  cir- 
cles, where  people  generally  found  out  all  about 
each  other.  Lenise  Elroy  had  avoided  him  in  the 
paddock,  he  saw  it  plainly;  it  angered  him,  but  he 
had  the  sense  to  know  he  must  not  interfere  but 
bide  his  time. 

It  was  in  an  ill-humor  that  he  went  into  the 
ring.  He  had  been  given  a  "great  tip"  about 
Bronze,  and,  as  he  was  in  funds  for  the  time  being, 
he  determined  to  speculate  above  his  average. 
Bronze  was  in  a  stable  famous  for  great  surprises. 
He  was  a  horse  that  had  shown  good  form  but  in 
the  summer  seemed  to  go  all  to  pieces  and  was  badly 
beaten  at  Ascot  and  Newmarket.  There  was,  how- 
ever, no  doubt  that  he  had  been  backed  to  win  a 
huge  fortune  for  the  St.  Leger.  The  famous  Don- 
caster  race,  in  this  particular  year,  was  the  medium 
of  some  wild  plunging  which  was  reminiscent  of 


204  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

twenty  or  thirty  years  before.  At  least  six  horses 
were  backed  to  win  fortunes.  The  plunging  on 
Ripon  was  desperate,  and  on  Bronze  the  money  was 
poured  like  water.  The  Monk  was  backed  to  win 
many  thousands,  so  were  Harriet,  Field  Gun,  and 
Hot  Pot;  Tearaway  would  take  sixty  thousand 
pounds  or  more  out  of  the  ring,  at  long  odds,  if 
she  won.  Small  wonder  the  scene  in  Tattersalls 
was  more  animated  than  usual.  The  big  bookmak- 
ers, aware  of  every  move  in  the  market,  kept  lay- 
ing the  favorite  and  others.  Their  wagers  were 
framed  on  business  lines :  only  one  horse  could  win 
and  they  were  taking  hundreds  on  half  a  dozen  or 
more;  if  an  outsider  came  to  the  rescue  they  would 
land  thousands — with  one  exception — this  was  Tear- 
away.  There  was  hardly  a  well-known  man  in  the 
ring  who  had  not  laid  Picton  Woodridge's  filly  al- 
most to  the  extent  of  his  book,  and  more  money  was 
coming  on  for  her. 

Fred  Erickson  mastered  his  feeling  of  faintness 
in  wonderful  fashion.  His  will  helped  him,  he 
was  determined,  and  as  the  time  drew  near  for  the 
race  the  excitement  of  the  event  kept  him  strung 
up  to  concert  pitch. 

Gradually  the  filly  came  back  to  her  former  po- 
sition in  the  market,  but  twenty  to  one  was  freely 
offered  against  her:  she  was  an  unknown  quantity 
and  this  did  not  augur  well  for  her  chance. 


THE  CROWD  IN  THE  RING      205 

Hector  went  into  the  ring  and  put  several  hun- 
dreds on  Tearaway ;  he  was  anxious  to  have  a  good 
win,  and  Picton  was  so  sanguine  of  success. 

Fletcher  Denyer  saw  him  and,  following  behind, 
heard  him  book  several  big  wagers  about  Tear- 
away. 

"He  can't  know  much  about  it,"  he  thought,  "to 
back  an  outsider  like  that." 

At  the  same  time  he  was  uneasy,  for  he  had  a  lot 
of  money  on  Bronze,  and  had  put  a  saver  on  the 
favorite.  William  Rolfe  had  shown  he  was  not 
a  man  to  be  taken  in :  Denyer  found  that  out  in  one 
or  two  transactions  he  had  with  him. 

He  spoke  to  Hector,  asking  him  what  he  knew 
about  Tearaway. 

"Not  much,"  he  replied.  "I  fancy  her,  that's 
all ;  she's  a  very  good  looking  filly." 

"But  you  must  have  some  line  to  go  upon.  Per- 
haps she  has  won  a  good  trial?" 

"I  am  not  likely  to  know  that,"  said  Hector. 

"Be  fair  with  me,  Rolfe.  Is  she  worth  a  tenner 
or  two?" 

"Please  yourself.  I  don't  see  how  she  can  beat 
the  favorite,  or  Bronze;  but  she  might — there's  no 
telling,"  and  he  walked  on. 

"Hang  him,  I  believe  he  knows  something  about 
her  and  he  won't  enlighten  me.     He  can  keep  it  to 


206  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

himself.  If  she  wins  I'll  pay  him  out  in  some  way 
or  other,"  muttered  Fletcher. 

Brack  had  never  been  in  Tattersalls  before.  The 
noise,  the  crush,  the  yelling  of  odds,  the  struggle 
to  get  money  on,  amazed  him.  He  wondered  if 
all  the  people  had  suddenly  gone  mad.  He  had 
five  pounds  in  his  hands,  he  knew  enough  about 
betting  to  know  what  to  do. 

"What  are  you  layin'  Tearaway?"  he  asked  a 
man  on  the  rails. 

The  bookmaker  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"Twenty  to  one,"  he  said. 

"I'll  have  five  pounds  on,"  said  Brack. 

"A  hundred  to  five  Tearaway,"  said  the  book- 
maker, and  his  clerk  booked  it.  "What  name?" 
he  asked. 

"Brack,  but  you'd  better  give  me  a  ticket." 

"As  you  please,"  and  he  handed  him  one.  There 
was  a  lull  in  the  row  for  a  moment  and  the  book- 
maker said  to  him :  "You  don't  often  go  to  the 
races,  eh?" 

"No,  not  often,"  said  Brack. 

"A  seaman?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  do  you  hail  from?     I've  a  son  at  sea." 

"I'm  a  boat  owner  at  Torquay;  I  used  to  be  at 
Scarborough." 

"Yorkshireman  ?" 


THE  CROWD  IN  THE  RING       207 

"Yes." 

"You  seem  a  good  sort.  Who  told  you  to  back 
Tearaway  ?" 

"Never  mind  that.     I  fancy  it,"  said  Brack. 

"Somebody  must  have  told  you,"  persisted  the 
man. 

"Well,  if  you  want  to  know  and  it'll  do  you  any 
good,  the  owner  told  me,"  said  Brack. 

The  bookmaker  laughed. 

"You're  a  cute  'un,"  he  said.  "The  owner,  eh? 
Mr.  Woodridge.    I  suppose  you're  a  friend  of  his?" 

"I  am." 

"Good,  you'll  do.  I  hope  I  have  to  pay  you  the 
hundred;  it  will  suit  my  book,"  laughed  the  book- 
maker. 

"Don't  believe  me,  eh?"  muttered  Brack  as  he 
walked  away.  "You'll  maybe  have  a  better  opinion 
of  me  after  Tearaway's  won." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
"by  jove,  she's  wonderful" 

THE  horses  were  saddled,  the  jockeys  mount- 
ing, everything  in  readiness  to  go  out  for  the 
parade. 

Picton  was  talking  anxiously  to  his  trainer  and 
Erickson,  last  instructions  were  given,  Fred  was 
told  to  make  the  most  of  Tearaway  in  every  part 
of  the  race,  use  her  staying  powers,  and  in  the  last 
furlong  her  wonderful  sprinting  qualities  to  the  ut- 
most. 

"You  feel  better  now?"  asked  Picton. 

"Yes,  much  better,"  said  Fred;  but  he  was  any- 
thing but  strong. 

A  great  cheer  broke  out  from  the  stands  and 
course. 

"That's  the  favorite,"  said  Picton,  smiling. 

"Tearaway  will  make  a  hack  of  him  before  the 
winning  post  is  reached,"  said  Fred. 

"You  are  the  last  out.  Good  luck  to  you,  Fred," 
said  Picton  as  he  rode  off.  "Well,  Brant,  what  do 
you  think  of  it?" 

208 


"SHE'S  WONDERFUL"  209 

"What  I  have  always  thought,  that  she  will  win." 

"But  about  Fred?" 

"He'll  be  all  right ;  he  would  not  have  ridden  had 
he  not  been  confident  of  himself,"  said  the  trainer. 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  the  fifteen  horses,  pa- 
rading in  the  soft  September  light,  the  colors  of 
the  riders  flashing,  the  thoroughbreds  eager  for  the 
fray,  well  knowing  what  was  about  to  be  required 
of  them.  There  was  a  dense  crowd  on  the  moor,  a 
real  Yorkshire  crowd,  all  horse  lovers,  enthusiasts, 
judges;  on  no  racecourse  in  the  world  is  there  a 
more  sport-loving  crowd  than  Doncaster  on  St. 
Leger  day. 

The  stands  were  packed,  so  were  the  rings;  bus- 
tle and  excitement  on  all  sides ;  the  only  clear  space 
was  the  course,  a  bright  green  grass  track,  winding 
in  and  out  amidst  a  black  surging  mass  of  people. 
Brack  surveyed  the  scene  with  wondering  eyes. 
It  was  all  new  to  him,  although  he  had  been  on 
the  moor,  and  seen  the  great  race  before,  he  had 
never  witnessed  it  from  the  stand  side;  the  con- 
trast was  remarkable.  It  was  also  many  years  since 
he  had  been  on  a  racecourse. 

He  was  not  excited,  he  viewed  the  scene  calmly; 
it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  bubble  over  with  en- 
thusiasm. As  the  horses  galloped  past,  and  went 
to  the  post,  he  was  thinking  about  Lenise  Elroy, 
what  she  had  said  to  him  at  Torquay,  and  how  she 


210  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

had  spoken  to  Carl  Hackler.  He  wondered  if 
danger  threatened  Hector  Woodridge;  he  must  try 
and  have  a  word  or  two  with  him  before  he  left 
the  course. 

Mrs.  Elroy  watched  the  purple  and  white  sleeves 
worn  by  Banks,  the  rider  of  Ripon,  the  favorite. 
She  wanted  him  to  win.  She  had,  at  Rupert  Han- 
som's suggestion,  put  a  hundred  pounds  on  him. 
Rupert  Hansom  was  the  owner  of  Ripon,  a  rich 
man,  not  particularly  popular,  living  apart  from  his 
wife,  who  had  obtained  a  separation  from  him  on 
account  of  his  conduct  with  a  well-known  opera 
singer.  He  admired  Mrs.  Elroy,  would  have  liked 
to  be  intimate  with  her,  but  she  did  not  care  for 
him  in  that  way,  he  was  merely  a  casual  acquaint- 
ance. Her  eyes  rested  on  the  saffron  jacket  and 
red  cap  of  Picton  Woodridge. 

"What  pretty  colors!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Mine?"  Hansom  asked. 

"No;  they  are  very  nice.  I  was  looking  at  that 
peculiar  yellow  jacket  and  red  cap." 

"They're  Woodridge's  colors — saffron,  red  cap. 
I  don't  think  Tearaway  has  much  chance,  although 
I  hear  they  have  backed  her  for  a  large  sum,"  he 
said. 

So  that  was  Tearaway!  What  a  splendid  black 
mare,  and  how  well  the  colors  of  the  racing  jacket 
contrasted  with  her  dark  shining  coat. 


"SHE'S  WONDERFUL"  211 

There  was  not  much  time  for  reflection ;  in  a  few 
minutes  they  were  sent  on  their  journey,  getting  off 
in  an  almost  unbroken  line,  a  splendid  start. 

Round  the  bend  they  swept,  a  moving  mass  of 
brilliant  colors.  The  Major  held  the  lead,  stretched 
out  to  his  full  extent,  half  a  dozen  lengths  in  front; 
he  was  followed  by  Dark  Donald,  Bronze,  Harriet, 
Ripon,  The  Monk,  Field  Gun,  and  Tearaway,  the 
remainder  well  up. 

The  Major  traveled  at  a  great  pace;  it  was  to 
be  a  fast  run  race.  He  was  a  very  fair  horse,  al- 
though not  quite  equal  to  staying  the  St.  Leger 
course;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  out  on  a  pace- 
making  mission  for  Bronze.  At  the  back  of  the 
course  The  Major  still  led,  the  others  were  creeping 
up.  Harriet  was  now  in  second  place,  Ripon,  and 
Bronze,  racing  together,  Tearaway  close  behind 
them,  level  with  The  Monk. 

The  race  became  more  interesting.  All  the  well 
backed  horses  shaped  well,  and  their  numerous  back- 
ers watched  every  move  with  interest. 

Picton  worked  his  way  through  the  crowd  and 
entered  his  box  just  before  the  start.  Rita  was  all 
excitement;  she  said  Torquay  races  were  very  tame 
after  this. 

"I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  have  a  chance  of 
riding  four  winners  in  two  days  here,  or  of  winning 
a  double,"  said  Picton. 


212  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Hector  caught  sight  of  Mrs.  Elroy's  glance  and 
smiled ;  she  was  not  far  away. 

Sir  Robert  was  fidgety.  He  had  done  what  he 
considered  a  rather  risky  thing,  backed  Tearaway 
for  several  hundreds,  standing  to  win  a  large  sum. 
He  considered  it  risky  because  he  still  doubted  if  the 
trial  on  Haverton  Moor  was  quite  correct ;  it  seemed 
too  good  to  be  true  that  Tearaway  had  beaten  Tris- 
tram at  only  seven  pounds  difference.  He  had  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment  said  that  Picton  had  the 
St.  Leger  in  his  pocket,  but  that  was  merely  a  figure 
of  speech,  the  result  of  over-enthusiasm.  He  was 
now  watching  the  race  with  keen  interest,  and 
thought  Tearaway  too  far  back. 

"Erickson's  not  making  sufficient  use  of  her,"  he 
said. 

"He'll  get  through  presently,"  said  Picton.  "I 
think  The  Major  made  the  pace  rather  hot  for  the 
first  six  furlongs." 

"Perhaps  that's  it,"  said  Sir  Robert.  "I  hope 
he'll  ride  it  out,  I  wish  that  queer  sort  of  faint- 
ness  had  not  come  over  him." 

They  were  entering  the  straight,  when  rounding 
the  bend  a  good  deal  of  bumping  took  place. 

The  cause  of  it  was  the  sudden  collapse  of  The 
Major,  who  almost  stopped  dead,  and  narrowly 
escaped  knocking  Bronze  down.  Bronze  in  turn 
collided  with  Harriet,  and  the  pair  interfered  with 


"SHE'S  WONDERFUL"  213 

Ripon,  and  The  Monk,  who  had  come  with  a  fast 
run,  Tearaway  was  in  the  center  of  the  course 
and  steered  clear  of  the  lot. 

Fred  Erickson  pulled  her  wide  on  the  outside  to 
avoid  any  possibility  of  a  collision  because  he  did 
not  feel  equal  to  it.  When  he  saw  the  interference 
at  the  bend  he  was  glad;  it  was  the  best  thing  he 
could  have  done. 

The  consequences  of  the  colliding  were  not  seri- 
ous; no  one  was  to  blame.  Fairly  in  the  straight, 
Harriet  took  command,  followed  by  Bronze,  Ripon, 
The  Monk,  and  Dark  Donald,  with  Tearaway  in 
the  middle  of  the  course. 

The  race  grew  more  and  more  exciting.  Up  to 
this  point  the  winner  could  not  be  picked,  half  a 
dozen  horses  had  excellent  chances. 

"My  fellow  will  win,"  said  Rupert  Hansom  to 
Mrs.  Elroy. 

"I  hope  so,"  she  answered;  but  her  glance  was 
on  the  saffron  jacket,  and  the  black  mare.  They 
looked  dangerous. 

"He's  going  well,"  said  Sir  Robert. 

"Which  is  going  well?"  asked  his  wife. 

"The  favorite,  confound  him,"  he  snapped. 

Brack  had  a  very  good  view  of  the  horses  as  they 
came  up  the  straight.  He  saw  the  bright  jacket 
of  Tearaway's  jockey  in  the  center  of  the  course 
and  to  him  it  appeared  the  race  was  little  short  of 


214  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

a  certainty  for  her.  He  was  not  much  of  a  judge, 
but  he  loved  racing,  and  when  he  saw  the  black 
mare,  out  alone,  catching  the  leaders,  he  shouted 
for  joy.  Some  one  told  him  to  make  less  noise ;  it 
had  no  effect  on  him,  he  still  continued  to  talk  to 
himself,  and  give  vent  to  an  occasional  cheer. 

Fred  Erickson  rode  a  great  race.  Tearaway  was 
going  splendidly;  he  felt  a  glow  of  pride  in  her, 
was  glad  he  had  such  a  mount,  for  he  had  not 
yet  won  a  St.  Leger,  it  had  long  been  his  ambition 
to  do  so. 

Halfway  down  the  straight  something  seemed  to 
stab  him  in  the  chest ;  his  head  swam,  for  a  moment 
he  reeled  in  the  saddle,  the  reins  loosened  in  his 
hands,  Tearaway  slackened  speed.  Half  dazed,  by 
sheer  force  of  will  he  controlled  himself.  His  eyes 
were  dim,  he  saw  the  horses  in  a  mist,  they  hardly 
appeared  real.  He  took  hold  of  Tearaway  and  urged 
her  forward,  the  gallant  mare  responded,  her  aston- 
ishing speed  began  to  tell. 

Blackett  saw  Fred  almost  swoon — he  had  excep- 
tionally powerful  glasses — and  wondered  he  did  not 
fall  off. 

"It's  all  up,"  he  muttered;  then,  as  he  looked 
again,  he  saw  Tearaway  coming  along  as  fast  as 
the  wind.  The  black  filly  stood  out  by  herself,  the 
saffron  jacket  alone  in  the  center  of  the  course.  On 
the  rails  Ripon  and  Harriet  were  racing  hard,  with 


"SHE'S  WONDERFUL"  215 

Bronze  drawing  up;  the  trio  appeared  to  have  the 
race  among  them.  Already  there  were  shouts  for 
the  favorite,  and  Rupert  Hansom  said  to  Mrs. 
Elroy:  "I  told  you  he  would  win." 

She  had  seen  many  races,  and  did  not  think  Ripon 
would  win.  She  feared  the  black  filly,  who  was 
going  so  fast,  catching  the  leaders.  She  wondered 
Hansom  did  not  see  it  too. 

In  Picton's  box  it  was  all  excitement.  Fred  Erick- 
son  was  seen  to  swerve  in  the  saddle,  then  recover, 
and  send  Tearaway  along  at  a  terrific  pace. 

"Well  done,  bravely  done,  Fred!"  exclaimed  Sir 
Robert. 

"Splendid !"  said  Rita. 

"She'll  win !"  said  Picton  as  he  watched  her,  the 
perspiration  standing  in  beads  on  his  forehead. 

"I  think  she's  a  chance,"  said  Hector ;  "but  Ripon 
is  forging  ahead,  and  Bronze  is  not  done  with." 

"Look  at  her  now!"  said  Picton. 

"By  jove,   she's   wonderful!"   said   Sir   Robert. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


FAST  AS  THE  WIND 


AST.  LEGER  long  to  be  remembered.  Three 
horses  abreast  righting  a  terrific  battle  a  fur- 
long from  the  winning  post;  in  the  center  of  the 
course  a  coal  black  mare,  coming  with  a  beautiful 
even  stride,  at  a  pace  men  marveled  at.  Old  hands 
who  had  seen  Hannah,  Marie  Stuart,  and  Apology 
win,  later  Dutch  Oven,  and  La  Fleche,  Throstle, 
and  the  peerless  Scepter,  were  astounded  at  Tear- 
away's  speed. 

On  came  Picton  Woodridge's  black  filly,  the  saf- 
fron jacket  showing  boldly,  Fred  Erickson  sitting 
motionless  in  the  saddle.  How  still  he  sat!  No 
one  knew  he  dared  not  move ;  had  he  done  so  he  felt 
he  must  fall  off.  With  desperate  efforts  he  retained 
his  seat;  he  alone  knew  what  a  great  performance 
Tearaway  was  putting  in,  that  she  was  carrying 
more  than  a  dead  weight,  that  if  anything  he  ham- 
pered instead  of  assisting  her. 

Ripon  got  his  head  in  front  of  Harriet  and 
Bronze,  and  the  shouting  was  deafening. 

ai6 


FAST  AS  THE  WIND  217 

"Ripon  wins!"  yelled  Rupert  Hansom. 

Mrs.  Elroy  was  looking  at  Tearaway.  The  black 
mare  was  gaining  fast,  she  would  get  up  and  win, 
she  had  no  doubt  about  it.  She  was  mortified  be- 
cause William  Rolfe  had  not  told  her  the  real 
strength  of  the  mare  and  her  trial.  He  ought  to 
have  done  so;  they  were  friends.  What  was  his 
reason?  Was  he  jealous  of  her  being  with  Rupert 
Hansom?  Perhaps  he  was,  and  thought  she  would 
tell  him  about  the  mare.  If  this  were  so,  she  did  not 
mind  losing  her  hundred.  He  had  promised  to  meet 
her  at  the  station  and  journey  to  town  with  her; 
much  might  happen  between  Doncaster  and  London 
— possibly  he  might  propose.  She  intended  to  urge 
him  on  in  every  possible  way,  and  she  possessed 
remarkable  powers  of  fascinating  men  and  was 
aware  of  it.  These  thoughts  were  mixed  up  in  her 
mind  as  she  watched  the  saffron  jacket.  The  great 
mass  of  people  on  the  rails,  and  standing  on  forms 
behind,  at  last  saw  that  Tearaway  was  dangerous. 
Ripon  held  the  lead,  Bronze  next,  Harriet  and  Tear- 
away level.  The  noise  was  terrific,  the  thousands 
of  people  surged  to  and  fro,  hundreds  of  them  could 
just  see  the  red  cap  bobbing  up  in  the  center  of 
the  course. 

Tearaway  settled  Harriet's  pretensions,  and 
caught  Bronze.  Fletcher  Denyer  turned  pale  with 
rage;  he  recognized  that  Rolfe  had  not  given  him 


218  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

the  strength  of  Tearaway.  It  was  a  shame,  after 
the  excellent  mining  tips  he  had  given  him. 

Bronze  was  beaten.  He  had  lost  a  large  sum, 
more  than  he  cared  to  pay ;  when  he  had  settled  on 
Monday  there  would  be  very  little  ready  money  left, 
and  he  must  settle  or  his  reputation,  such  as  it  was, 
would  be  gone.  Rolfe  evidently  knew  all  about 
Tearaway;  there  was  no  doubt  he  backed  the  mare 
to  win  many  thousands  of  pounds.  The  commis- 
sion agent  he  worked  for  said  Tearaway  was  one 
of  the  worst  in  his  book,  and  the  bulk  of  the  money 
had  gone  to  William  Rolfe.  Denyer  introduced 
Rolfe  to  the  man,  who  would  not  thank  him  for 
this  client  whose  first  wagers  were  on  a  winner  at 
thirty-three  to  one. 

Tearaway  passed  Bronze  and  drew  level  with 
Ripon.  Rupert  Hansom  was  quiet  now,  watching 
the  struggle  on  which  so  much  depended.  His  hopes 
of  winning  were  of  short  duration.  Tearaway 
wrested  the  lead  from  him,  passed  him,  forged 
ahead,  Erickson  sitting  perfectly  still,  and  won  by 
a  couple  of  lengths,  with  the  greatest  ease.  The 
way  the  flying  filly  left  the  favorite  was  wonderful. 
Ripon  might  have  been  standing  still.  Banks,  his 
rider,  when  he  realized  the  situation  was  amazed- 
Ripon  was  a  good  horse;  what,  then,  must  this  filly 
be? 

No  matter  what  wins  the  St.  Leger,  there  are 


FAST  AS  THE  WIND  219 

rousing  cheers  for  the  victor.  It  was  so  in  this 
case.  They  were  given  with  more  heartiness  be- 
cause she  was  a  Yorkshire-bred  mare,  owned  by  a 
popular  Yorkshire  squire;  there  was  a  real  county 
flavor  about  it,  and  the  men  of  the  wolds  rejoiced 
exceedingly.  Some  of  them  lost  money  on  Ripon, 
but  that  was  a  small  matter  compared  with  the 
defeat  of  the  Newmarket  champion  by  a  home-bred 
'un;  patriotism  first  is  always  the  case  with  a  Don- 
caster  crowd. 

"Picton,  my  boy,  I  congratulate  you,"  said  Sir 
Robert,  wringing  his  hand.  "By  gad,  I  wish  the 
Admiral  could  have  seen  this !" 

Hector  heard  the  words  and  turned  round  quick- 
ly; they  cut  deep  into  a  not-yet-healed  wound. 

Picton  looked  hastily  at  his  brother  and  guessed 
what  that  sudden  movement  meant. 

"Thank  you,  Sir  Robert,"  he  said.  "It  is  a  great 
victory.  I  also  wish  my  father  could  have  seen  it," 
he  added  in  a  low  voice. 

Rita's  congratulations  came  next. 

"I  am  so  glad,"  she  said,  "so  very  glad;  you 
own  the  best  mare  in  England." 

"Go  down  and  lead  her  in,  don't  waste  time 
here,"  said  Sir  Robert;  and  Picton  went. 

Hector  followed  him,  glad  to  get  out  of  the  box. 
"I  wish  the  Admiral  could  have  seen  it."  Sir  Rob- 
ert's words  rang  in  his  ears. 


220  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

He  caught  sight  of  Mrs.  Elroy  in  a  box  and 
vowed  he  would  make  her  pay  to  the  uttermost  for 
the  misery  she  had  caused.  There  was  no  mercy 
in  him  at  that  moment ;  the  recalling  of  his  father's 
death  steeled  his  heart,  deadened  his  conscience, 
made  him  cruel,  hard,  almost  murderous.  She 
smiled  at  him  and  her  glance  fanned  the  flame  with- 
in him. 

"To-morrow  we  journey  to  London,  to-morrow," 
he  thought. 

Picton  Woodridge  was  recognized  as  he  came 
with  his  trainer  to  lead  Tearaway  in.  Cheer  after 
cheer  was  given  as  he  walked  beside  her  through 
the  living  lane. 

"How  are  you,  Fred?"  he  asked. 

The  jockey  did  not  speak,  he  gazed  straight  be- 
fore  him  with  dull  eyes,  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 

"Brant,  he's  very  ill,"  said  Picton. 

The  trainer  looked  at  the  jockey  and  was  alarmed 
at  the  expression  on,  and  color  of,  his  face.  Therf 
was  no  spark  of  life  in  it  and  his  complexion  was 
a  leaden  color. 

"Keep  up,  Fred,  keep  up!  You've  done  splen- 
didly!" said  Brant. 

Many  people  in  the  crowd  noticed  the  jockey's 
condition  and  wondered  at  it. 

"He's  ill,  poor  chap." 


FAST  AS  THE  WIND  221 

"The  race  has  been  too  much  for  him." 

"I  heard  he  was  bad  before  they  went  out." 

"He's  a  good  plucked  *un  anyhow." 

Many  such  remarks  were  passed  as  Tearaway 
went  in. 

"Get  down,"  said  Brant  sharply,  trying  to  rouse 
him. 

Fred  looked  at  him  but  did  not  seem  to  under- 
stand. 

"Get  down,  unsaddle,  and  weigh  in,"  said  Brant. 

"Yes,  of  course,  I  forgot,"  said  Fred  in  a  hollow 
voice. 

Two  of  the  stewards  were  looking  on;  they  had 
just  congratulated  Picton  on  his  win. 

"Your  jockey  looks  ill,"  one  of  them  said. 

"He  is;  he  was  very  bad,  faint,  before  the  race, 
but  he  said  he'd  pull  through,  and  I  could  not  find 
a  good  jockey  at  the  last  moment,"  said  Picton. 

"You  might  have  ridden  her,"  said  the  other 
steward.  "You  are  about  the  weight,  and  would  not 
have  made  any  difference  to  the  result." 

Picton  was  flattered;  this  was  high  praise  indeed; 
the  steward  was  one  of  the  best  judges  of  racing 
in  the  land. 

Fred  managed  to  take  the  saddle  off  and  walked 
with  unsteady  steps  to  the  weighing  room.  He  sat 
in  the  chair  with  a  bump.  The  clerk  at  the  scales 
looked  at  him. 


222  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"You're  ill,  Fred,"  he  said. 

The  jockey  nodded ;  he  would  not  have  been  sur- 
prised had  they  told  him  he  was  dying.  He  got 
up  from  the  scales,  and  Banks,  the  rider  of  Ripon, 
dropped  his  saddle  and  caught  him  as  he  fell  for- 
ward in  a  faint. 

"All  right,"  was  called. 

Brant  came  forward;  he  and  Picton  carried  him 
outside.  A  doctor  came,  ordered  him  to  be  taken 
to  the  hospital  at  once,  and  thither  he  was  con- 
veyed, Picton  accompanying  him. 

When  Fred  came  to,  he  said  to  Picton,  with  a 
faint  smile:  "Don't  stay  here;  I'm  all  right.  I 
did  feel  bad;  I  don't  know  how  I  stuck  on.  She's 
a  wonder;  she  won  the  race  on  her  own,  and  car- 
ried a  log  of  wood  on  her  back.  I  was  quite  as 
useless;  I  could  not  help  her  at  all." 

"You  are  sure  you  do  not  wish  me  to  stay?" 

"Quite,"  said  Fred.  "I  shall  probably  be  on  the 
course  to-morrow." 

"What's  the  matter  with  him,  doctor?"  asked 
Picton,  when  they  were  in  the  consulting  room. 

"He's  consumptive,  there  are  all  the  symptoms, 
and  it  is  weakness  caused  through  that.  He  may 
be  able  to  go  out  to-morrow  as  he  says;  it  is  won- 
derful how  they  rally — a  flash  in  the  pan.  He  can't 
live  long,  I'm  afraid;  in  any  case  he  ought  to  give 
up  riding,"  said  the  doctor. 


FAST  AS  THE  WIND  223 

"I  don't  think  he'll  mind  that  so  much  now  he's 
won  the  St.  Leger,"  said  Picton,  smiling.  He  liked 
the  doctor,  fancied  he  resembled  some  one  he  knew. 
"Will  you  come  to  Haverton  and  have  a  shot  on 
the  moor?"  he  asked. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Woodridge,  but  perhaps 
when  you  hear  my  name  you  may  be  prejudiced 
against  me." 

"A  name  can  make  no  difference,"  said  Picton. 
"What  is  it?" 

"Bernard  Elroy." 

Picton  started;  he  was  much  surprised. 

"I  am  the  brother-in-law  of  Mrs.  Elroy.  Now 
do  you  understand?" 

"Yes,"  said  Picton.  "It  makes  no  difference;  all 
that  is  past." 

"But  not  forgotten,"  said  the  doctor. 

"No,  it  is  not.    You  cannot  expect  it." 

"Mr.  Woodridge,  if  I  could  prove  your  brother's 
innocence,  I  would.  I'd  give  a  great  deal  to  prove 
it,  do  anything  that  would  assist  in  proving  it." 

"You  believe  he  is  innocent?"  asked  Picton. 

"I  do  not  believe  he  shot  Elroy,"  said  Bernard. 

"Then  who  did  shoot  him?"  asked  Picton. 

"There  is  only  one  person  can  tell  us  that." 

"And  it  is?" 

"Mrs.  Elroy,"  said  Bernard. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  CUP 

TEARAWAY  was  in  the  Doncaster  Cup  on 
the  concluding  day  of  the  meeting,  but  Fred 
Erickson  was  not  well  enough  to  ride,  although  on 
the  course. 

Picton  said  nothing  to  his  brother  about  Dr. 
Elroy.  Hector  had  rather  a  serious  wordy  encoun- 
ter with  Fletcher  Denyer,  who  called  him  nasty 
names,  and  plainly  said  he  had  willfully  deceived 
him  about  Tearaway.  Hector  spoke  his  mind  free- 
ly, saying  he  had  no  wish  to  see  him  again. 

"If  you  think  you've  seen  the  last  of  me,  you're 
mistaken,"  said  Fletcher.  "I  owe  you  a  bad  turn 
and  I'll  repay  it,  I  always  do." 

Hector  laughed  as  he  walked  away.  He  told 
Lenise  Elroy  of  the  encounter. 

"You  must  choose  between  us,"  he  said.  "I  have 
no  desire  to  meet  him  at  your  flat." 

"You  can  easily  guess  which  I  shall  choose,"  she 
said. 

He  questioned  her  and  she  replied,  "You." 
224 


STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  CUP       225 

"The  climax  is  drawing  near,"  he  thought. 

"You'll  run  Tearaway  in  the  Cup  I  expect?" 
asked  Sir  Robert.  His  favorite  Tristram  was  in, 
and  he  had  no  desire  to  see  the  celebrated  Cup  horse 
beaten  by  the  flying  filly,  as  he  feared  would  be  the 
case. 

"I  think  so,"  said  Picton.  "You  will  start  Tris- 
tram ?" 

"Yes.  I  must  not  own  up  I  am  afraid  of  your 
mare;  but,  by  jove,  I  am,  my  boy,"  said  Sir  Robert. 

"It  will  be  a  great  race  between  them,"  said  Pic- 
ton. 

"A  real  sporting  event,"  said  Sir  Robert.  "It 
will  cause  more  excitement  than  the  St.  Leger." 

When  it  became  known  on  Thursday  night  that 
Tristram  and  Tearaway  would  oppose  each  other 
in  the  Doncaster  Cup,  and  that  Ripon,  Bronze,  Fair 
Dame,  and  Sir  Charles,  would  run,  excitement 
worked  up  to  fever  heat.  Nothing  else  was  talked 
about  in  the  town  at  night,  and  in  all  the  papers 
on  Friday  morning  mention  was  made  of  the  great 
struggle  that  might  be  expected.  The  Special  Com- 
missioner wrote  that  it  was  an  open  fact  that  Tris- 
tram and  Tearaway  had  been  tried  on  Haverton 
Moor  before  the  St.  Leger  and  the  filly  had  won 
at  a  very  slight  difference  in  the  weights,  and  he 
concluded  as  follows:  "This  being  the  case,  the 
Leger  winner  should  be  victorious,  as  Sir  Robert 


226  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Raines'  great  horse  will  have  to  give  a  lump  of 
■weight  away,  so  I  shall  go  for  Tearaway  to  win." 

This  appeared  to  be  the  general  opinion;  only 
many  shrewd  men  thought  Tristram  would  prove 
more  than  a  match  for  Tearaway  over  the  Cup 
distance.  Another  argument  was  that  the  severe 
race  in  the  St.  Leger  must  have  taken  it  out  of 
the  filly,  while  Tristram  was  fresh,  and  very  fit; 
in  fact,  Sir  Robert's  horse  was  stated  to  be  better 
than  he  had  ever  been.  Bronze,  too,  was  given  a 
chance,  as  he  was  a  proved  stayer ;  while  Ripon  was 
not  considered  out  of  it. 

Much  to  Rupert  Hansom's  disgust,  Banks  de- 
clined to  ride  Ripon  and  accepted  the  mount  on 
Tearaway.  At  first  this  seemed  somewhat  unfair, 
but  Hansom  had  severely  taken  the  jockey  to  task 
over  his  riding  in  the  St.  Leger,  and  Banks  re- 
sented it,  knowing  he  had  done  his  best. 

"Tearaway  is  the  best  filly  we've  seen  for  years," 
he  said,  "and  Ripon  had  no  chance  with  her;  you'll 
see  how  it  is  if  she  runs  in  the  Cup." 

"Perhaps  you'd  like  to  ride  her?"  sneered  Ru- 
pert. 

"I  should.    I  will  if  I  get  the  chance." 

His  chance  came  sooner  than  he  expected.  See- 
ing Picton  Woodridge  on  Thursday,  before  the  last 
race,  the  jockey  said,  "Will  Fred  be  well  enough 
to  ride  your  mare  in  the  Cup,  sir?" 


STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  CUP       227 

"No,  he's  not  at  all  well,  Dick.  He's  consump- 
tive, I'm  sorry  to  say." 

"Have  you  a  jockey?" 

"Not  at  present." 

"Will  you  give  me  the  mount?" 

"Are  you  not  engaged  to  ride  Ripon?"  asked 
Picton,  surprised. 

"No,  there  is  no  engagement,  and  I  have  fallen 
out  with  Mr.  Hansom  about  the  riding  of  his  horse 
in  the  St.  Leger,"  said  Banks. 

"You  are  free  to  ride  my  mare?"  asked  Picton. 
les. 

"Then  you  shall  have  the  mount.  I  would  soon- 
er see  you  on  her  than  any  one,  except  Fred,"  said 
Picton. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Banks,  jubilant,  and  went 
off  to  tell  Rupert  Hansom,  who  said  it  was  an  in- 
fernal shame,  and  raved  about  it  to  his  friends,  call- 
ing Banks  all  sorts  of  names. 

"I  don't  see  what  you  have  to  complain  of,"  said 
Mrs.  Elroy.  "You  said  he  rode  a  bad  race  in  the 
St.  Leger,  jeeringly  asked  him  if  he'd  like  the 
mount  on  Tearaway  in  the  Cup,  when  he  replied 
he  would.  It  appears  he  took  you  at  your  word  and 
accepted  the  mount  when  it  was  offered  him ;  I  think 
he's  on  the  winner." 

"Do  you  indeed?"  he  said  crossly.  "I  hope  if 
you  back  her  you'll  lose  your  money." 


228  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"How  very  disagreeable  you  are,"  she  said. 
"Men  with  diminutive  minds  always  appear  to  lose 
control  over  their  tempers,  and  forget  their  man- 
ners." 

Rupert  Hansom  found  another  jockey  in  Crosby, 
a  very  fair  rider. 

There  were  seven  runners  for  the  Cup,  fields 
had  been  stronger  than  usual  at  the  meeting. 

Rita  looked  supremely  happy.  She  knew  what 
was  coming;  Picton  had  more  than  hinted  at  it. 
Before  she  left  Haverton  he  would  ask  her  to  be 
his  wife;  she  knew  what  her  answer  would  be. 
She  loved  him,  had  done  so  from  the  first  time  they 
met,  and  she  was  quite  sure  he  loved  her. 

Dick  Langford  also  guessed  what  was  about  to 
happen;  it  pleased  him  to  contemplate  Picton  as 
a  brother-in-law. 

"I'll  give  him  The  Rascal  as  a  wedding  present," 
he  said  to  himself,  laughing. 

Before  they  went  to  the  races  on  Friday  he  said 
to  Rita :  "Picton's  having  a  great  week — the  Leger, 
the  Cup  to-day,  a  wife  before  the  week's  out." 

She  laughed  as  she  replied :  "That's  a  treble — 
better  than  his  double  on  The  Rascal." 

"You're  worth  the  winning,  Rita,"  he  said  kind- 
ly.    "Wonder  what  I  shall  do  without  you." 

"Find  a  wife,"  she  said. 


STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  CUP       229 

"Expect  it  will  be  compulsory ;  it  is  not  good  for 
a  man  to  live  alone,"  he  answered. 

A  tremendous  crowd  witnessed  the  Doncaster 
Cup.  It  was  as  memorable  a  race  as  the  St.  Leger; 
many  thought  it  more  so. 

Sir  Robert  secured  the  services  of  May,  a  relia- 
ble jockey,  at  times  brilliant. 

"I  hope  I  shall  beat  you,"  he  said  to  Picton. 

"I  hope  Tearaway  will  win,"  was  the  laughing 
reply. 

"It  will  be  a  great  race,"  said  Dick ;  "but  my  bit 
goes  on  the  mare." 

"And  mine,"  said  Rita. 

"And  mine,"  said  Hector. 

"All  against  me,"  laughed  Sir  Robert.  "My  hun- 
dred or  two  goes  on  Tristram." 

"Robert,  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  bet.  Remem- 
ber the  trial,"  said  his  wife. 

"You  against  me!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  am  in  3 
terrible  plight  indeed." 

The  horses  were  out,  seven  in  number,  a  real 
good  lot. 

Sir  Robert's  face  glowed  with  pride  as  he  heard 
the  roar  of  cheers  which  greeted  the  red  jacket  and 
black  cap,  and  his  good  horse  Tristram.  Another 
roar  was  given  for  Tearaway;  the  others  were  all 
cheered  lustily.  They  were  soon  on  their  journey, 
Sir  Charles  making  the  running,  followed  by  Fair 


230  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Dame,  Bronze,  and  Harriet,  with  Ripon,  and  Tear- 
away  next,  and  Tristram  last.  Sir  Robert's  horse 
never  went  to  the  front  in  the  earlier  stages  of  a 
race. 

Rupert  Hansom  gave  Crosby  instructions  to  keep 
in  touch  with  Tristram  and  Tearaway. 

"You've  nothing  else  to  fear,"  he  said;  "and 
remember  there's  a  hundred  for  you  if  you  win." 

Sir  Charles  soon  dropped  out  of  it  and  Harriet 
took  his  place.  At  the  back  of  the  close  the  lot 
closed  up,  half  a  dozen  lengths  separated  first  and 
last. 

In  the  straight  they  swept;  then  a  change  took 
place.  Ripon  made  the  first  move  forward,  fol- 
lowed by  Tearaway  and  Tristram. 

Up  the  straight  they  came  at  a  terrific  pace,  for 
Tearaway  had  gone  to  the  front,  and  Banks  was 
making  every  use  of  her  great  speed  and  staying 
powers. 

Cheer  after  cheer  pealed  over  the  course  when 
the  saffron  jacket  was  seen  in  the  lead ;  the  filly  was 
favorite,  a  six  to  four  chance. 

Banks  kept  pushing  her  along;  he  did  not  know 
how  to  handle  her  as  well  as  Fred  Erickson,  but  did 
his  best. 

May  was  riding  Tristram  strictly  to  orders. 

"Bring  him  with  a  rush  in  the  last  quarter  of 
a  mile,"  said  Sir  Robert. 


STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  CUP        231 

Ripon  was  going  well,  but  could  not  keep  the 
pace  with  Tearaway. 

At  last  May  brought  Tristram  out  and  the  great 
horse  came  along  with  giant  strides,  his  natural  style 
of  going.  On  he  came  swooping  down,  passing 
first  one  then  another,  drawing  level  with  Ripon, 
leaving  him,  and  going  in  pursuit  of  Tearaway. 

The  excitement  was  intense;  all  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  splendid  pair,  the  mare  and  the  horse,  owned 
by  two  good  sportsmen,  hailing  from  Yorkshire, 
both  well  known  in  the  county.  Captain  Ben  Bruce 
was  with  Brack,  who  had  been  persuaded  to  stop 
until  the  meeting  was  over;  he  was  very  fond  of 
the  old  boatman,  and  knew  he  deserved  well  of 
them  all.  Brack  was  to  have  a  look  round  Haver- 
ton  before  he  returned  home.  He  had  backed  Tear- 
away again,  and  was  shouting  her  name  frantically, 
much  to  the  Captain's  amusement.  She  looked  like 
a  winner,  she  was  going  so  well,  but  there  was  no 
mistaking  the  way  in  which  Tristram  galloped. 

"He's  catching  her!"  said  Sir  Robert  excitedly. 

Picton  smiled  confidently;  he  did  not  think  he 
would  do  it. 

A  great  shout  went  up  when  Tristram  got  to 
Tearaway's  girth;  May  rode  a  brilliant  finish. 

Banks  handled  the  filly  well,  but  had  not  the  same 
powers  as  Fred  Erickson  at  his  best;  they  were 
wanted  now  just  to  help  her  home. 


232  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

Neck  and  neck  they  raced,  head  and  head,  not  an 
inch  between  them,  outstretched  nostrils;  it  was  a 
tremendous  race,  one  of  the  best  ever  seen  for  the 
Cup. 

Sir  Robert  and  Picton  looked  on,  thrilling  with 
excitement.  It  was  a  desperate  finish.  Both  were 
game,  the  filly  and  the  horse,  and  fought  to  the 
bitter  end.  As  they  passed  the  judge's  box  no  one 
could  tell  which  had  won. 

"Dead  heat,"  said  the  judge. 

Sir  Robert  and  Picton  shook  hands  heartily. 

"By  jove,  what  a  race!"  the  baronet  said. 

"I'm  glad  it  was  a  dead  heat,"  said  Picton. 
"We've  both  won." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  RESERVED  COMPARTMENT 

LENISE  ELROY  arrived  at  the  station  and 
looked  around  for  Mr.  Rolfe.  He  was  not 
there;  at  least  she  did  not  see  him.  As  the  time 
drew  near  for  the  departure  of  the  train  she  became 
anxious;  she  hoped  much  from  this  railway  journey 
in  a  reserved  compartment:  they  would  be  able  to 
talk  without  interruption. 

Hector  had  seen  Brack,  who  explained  how  Mrs. 
Elroy  had  questioned  him  at  Torquay,  and  also  Carl 
Hackler. 

"You'd  best  be  careful,"  said  Brack;  "I  saw  you 
talking  with  her  on  the  course." 

"She  has  no  idea  who  I  am.  I  thank  you  all  the 
same,"  he  answered. 

"Mr.  Woodridge  has  given  me  a  hundred  pounds 
and  a  new  boat,"  said  Brack. 

"And  you  richly  deserve  it!  Here's  a  twenty- 
pound  note  to  add  to  it,"  said  Hector. 

"I'll  be  a  rich  man  before  I  get  back  to  Torquay," 
said  Brack. 

233 


234  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Here  you  are;  I  thought  you  were  not  coming," 
said  Mrs.  Elroy,  as  Hector  came  up. 

"There's  plenty  of  time,"  he  said;  "ten  minutes." 

"You  can't  think  how  anxious  I  felt." 

"Why?     You  could  have  gone  on  alone." 

"That  would  not  have  suited  me;  I  want  your 
company,"  she  said. 

They  were  shown  to  a  reserved  compartment,  the 
guard  locking  the  door  until  the  train  started ;  it  was 
crowded,  and  some  of  the  race-goers  are  not  par- 
ticular where  they  get  in. 

"It's  a  non-stop  train;  we  are  alone  until  we  ar- 
rive at  King's  Cross,"  said  Hector. 

Lenise  was  at  her  best.  She  confessed  she  was 
really  in  love  this  time;  she  meant  to  find  out  how 
matters  stood  with  him. 

Despite  all  she  had  done,  he  felt  her  charm  still. 
She  was  not  a  good  woman,  far  from  it,  but  there 
was  something  so  subtle  and  attractive  about  her 
he  found  it  hard  to  resist  the  spell. 

The  thought  of  Sir  Robert's  words,  "I  wish  the 
Admiral  could  have  seen  this,"  gave  him  courage. 
It  had  to  be  done — why  not  do  it  now?  There 
was  no  escape  for  her ;  it  was  not  a  corridor  train ; 
they  were  boxed  up  for  three  hours  or  more.  She 
looked  at  him  with  softly  gleaming  eyes ;  her  whole 
being  thrilled  toward  him;  she  had  never  been  so 
fascinating. 


RESERVED  COMPARTMENT     235 

"You  are  quiet.  What  are  you  thinking  about?" 
she  said.  "Reckoning  up  your  winnings  on  Tear- 
away.  I  suppose." 

"My  thoughts  were  far  away  from  there,"  he 
said. 

"Where  were  they  wandering?" 

"I  was  thinking  about  you,"  he  said. 

"How  nice  of  you,"  she  said  quietly. 

"You  prefer  me  to  Fletcher  Denyer?" 

"How  can  you  ask  such  an  absurd  question?" 

"I  was  wondering  whether  I  loved  you;  I  was 
thinking  whether  you  would  be  my  wife,  if  I  had 
the  courage  to  ask  you." 

"Try,"  she  said,  her  eyes  on  him. 

"Do  you  really  love  me?"  he  asked. 

"You  know  I  do ;  you  must  have  known  it  from 
the  first  time  we  met." 

"There  should  be  no  secrets  between  us,"  he  said. 
"I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

She  turned  pale,  a  faint  shiver  passed  through 
her;  he  noticed  it.  Would  she  confess  what  she 
had  done? 

"I  too  have  a  confession  to  make,  if  you  love  me, 
and  wish  me  to  be  your  wife." 

"Otherwise?" 

"I  shall  keep  my  counsel;  it  would  not  interest 
you." 

"Let  me  tell  you  something  first,"  he  said. 


236  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"As  you  please,  confidence  for  confidence,"  she 
said  with  a  faint  smile. 

"I  have  not  always  lived  a  decent  life,"  he  said. 
"I  once  committed  a  crime,  I  paid  the  penalty,  I 
was  sent  to  prison,  to  Dartmoor." 

She  started  again,  a  look  of  fear  was  in  her  eyes. 

"When  I  told  you  I  was  mining  on  Dartmoor 
it  was  not  true;  I  worked  on  Dartmoor,  but  it  was 
as  a  prisoner.  I  was  in  the  same  gang  as  Mr.  Wood- 
ridge's  brother." 

"You  were,"  she  said  in  a  hollow  voice,  wonder- 
ing why  he  told  her  this. 

"Yes,  poor  fellow.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  broken 
down  in  my  life;  his  face  haunted  me.  I  said  some- 
thing about  it  before,  you  may  remember." 

"Yes,  I  recollect,"  she  said. 

"We  had  very  little  chance  of  speaking  but  I 
heard  his  story  in  fragments,  how  he  hated  the 
woman  who  had  brought  him  down  so  low.  He 
swore  to  me  he  did  not  kill  the  woman's  husband, 
but  he  would  not  tell  me  who  did,  although  I  asked 
him  many  times.  From  what  I  heard  I  came  to 
the  conclusion  she  fired  the  shot." 

His  eyes  were  on  her;  she  could  not  face  their 
searching  glance. 

She  made  no  remark,  and  he  went  on:  "It  was 
mainly  through  me  he  escaped,"  he  said.  "When  I 
was  released  I  searched  out  his  brother  and  made 


RESERVED  COMPARTMENT      237 

a  suggestion.  Mr.  Woodridge  has  no  idea  I  was 
in  prison ;  he  thought  I  had  been  abroad  for  several 
years.  Needless  to  say,  I  did  not  enlighten  him; 
I  will  trust  you  not  to  do  so." 

"I  shall  never  speak  of  it." 

"Does  this  alter  your  opinion  of  me?  Shall  I 
go  on?"  he  asked. 

"I  love  you,"  she  said.  "I  shall  always  love  you, 
no  matter  what  happens." 

"As  you  know,  Hector  Woodridge  escaped." 

"But  he  is  dead." 

"That  is  uncertain.  He  may  be,  or  he  may  have 
got  away  and  be  in  hiding.  He  must  be  greatly 
changed,  no  one  would  recognize  him,"  he  said. 

"It  is  hardly  possible,"  she  said. 

"Perhaps  not,  but  still  he  may  be  alive,  and  if 
he  is,  the  woman  who  ruined  him  had  better  beware. 
I  believe  he  would  kill  her  if  he  met  her.  What 
have  you  to  confess  to  me  ?  You  see  I  have  placed 
my  character  in  your  hands;  you  can  ruin  me  so- 
cially if  you  wish." 

"I  do  not  wish,  and  I  thank  you  for  the  trust 
you  have  placed  in  me,"  she  said.  "I  am  afraid  to 
confess  all  to  you,  afraid  you  will  never  speak  to 
me  again  when  you  know  who  I  am." 

"Who  you  are?"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  told  you,  when  you  remarked  on  the  curious 
coincidence  that  my  name  was  Mrs.  Elroy,  that  I 


238  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

was  not  the  Mrs.  Elroy  connected  with  Hector 
Woodridge's  case/' 

"Well/'  he  said. 

"I  told  you  a  lie.  I  am  the  same  Mrs.  Elroy.  It 
was  my  husband  Hector  Woodridge  shot.  It  was 
me  he  was  in  love  with." 

He  looked  at  her  without  speaking  for  several 
minutes.  The  silence  was  painful ;  he  was  thinking 
how  to  launch  his  thunderbolt,  how  best  to  trap  and 
overwhelm  her.  There  was  no  escape,  she  was  en- 
tirely at  his  mercy. 

"You  ruined  Hector  Woodridge,  sent  him  to 
penal  servitude  for  life,"  he  said. 

"I  was  not  entirely  to  blame.  We  loved,  or  at 
least  we  thought  so." 

"How  did  it  happen  ?"  he  asked. 

"The  shooting?" 

"Yes." 

"It  was  quite  unpremeditated;  had  the  revolver 
not  been  there  it  would  never  have  happened.  I 
believe  my  husband  intended  to  shoot  him,  and  me 
— it  was  his  revolver." 

Hector  wondered  if  this  were  true. 

"The  revolver  was  on  a  small  table.  I  saw  it 
but  did  not  remove  it;  had  I  done  so  the  tragedy 
would  not  have  happened." 

"Why  did  you  leave  it  there?"  he  asked. 

"I  do  not  know ;  probably  because  I  did  not  wish 


RESERVED  COMPARTMENT      239 

my  husband  to  know  I  was  afraid.  I  was  aware 
he  had  found  us  out,  that  an  exposure  must  come 
sooner  or  later.  He  was  madly  in  love  with  me ; 
I  almost  hated  him,  he  was  so  weak,  almost  child- 
ish, and  I  wanted  a  strong  man  to  rule  me.  Shall 
I  go  on,  do  you  despise  me,  look  upon  me  as  a  very 
wicked  woman?"  she  asked  in  a  strained  voice. 

"Go  on,"  he  said;  "tell  me  the  whole  story,  how 
he  was  shot,  everything." 

"I  will,  I  will  make  a  full  confession;  but  be 
merciful  in  your  judgment,  remember  I  am  doing 
this  because  I  love  you,  that  I  do  not  want  it  to 
stand  between  us,  I  plead  to  you  not  to  throw  all 
the  blame  on  me.  Hector  Woodridge  was  a  strong 
man  and  I  loved  him,  I  believe  he  loved  me,  he  over- 
came all  my  scruples.  I  yielded  to  him,  gave  myself 
to  him — surely  that  was  a  great  sacrifice,  my  name, 
honor,  everything  for  his  sake.  We  were  together 
in  my  husband's  study.  We  thought  he  was  in 
London,  but  he  did  not  go;  he  set  a  trap  and  caught 
us.  I  shall  never  forget  the  look  on  his  face  when 
he  came  into  the  room.  I  saw  his  eyes  rest  on  the 
revolver,  and  I  felt  it  was  our  lives  or  his,  but  we 
stood  between  him  and  the  weapon. 

"Hector  Woodridge  guessed  what  was  in  his 
mind ;  he  must  have  done  so,  for  he  laid  his  hand  on 
the  revolver.  My  husband  saw  the  movement  and 
said,  Tut  that  down,  you  scoundrel,'  and  advanced 


240  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

toward  us.  Hector  raised  the  revolver  and  told  him 
to  stand  back.     He  did  so;  he  was  afraid. 

"There  was  an  angry  altercation.  I  remember 
saying  I  was  tired  of  him,  that  I  would  live  with 
him  no  longer,  that  I  loved  Hector  Woodridge. 
This  drove  him  to  distraction;  he  became  furious, 
dangerous;  he  would  have  killed  us  without  hesi- 
tation had  he  possessed  the  revolver,  there  was  such 
a  murderous  look  in  his  eyes.  Does  my  sordid 
story  interest  you?"  she  asked. 

"It  does;  everything  you  do  or  say  interests  me," 
he  said. 

"And  you  do  not  utterly  despise  me,  think  me  too 
bad  to  be  in  decent  society,  to  be  sitting  here  alone 
with  you?" 

"Go  on,"  he  said  in  a  tone  that  was  half  a  com- 
mand, and  which  caused  her  to  feel  afraid  of  some- 
thing unknown. 

"At  last  Elroy's  rage  got  the  better  of  his  pru- 
dence ;  he  made  a  dash  forward  to  seize  the  revolver, 
raised  in  Hector's  hand.  It  was  the  work  of  a  sec- 
ond, his  finger  was  on  the  trigger ;  he  pulled  it,  there 
was  a  report,  Elroy  staggered  forward,  fell  on  his 
face,  dead,"  she  said  with  a  blanched  face,  and 
trembling  voice. 

"You  pulled  the  trigger,"  he  said,  calmly  look- 
ing straight  at  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

HOW   HECTOR   HAD   HIS  REVENGE 

THIS  direct  charge  so  astonished  her  that  for 
a  few  moments  she  did  not  recognize  its  full 
significance.  She  sat  wildly  staring  at  him,  com- 
pletely overwhelmed. 

He  watched;  her  terror  fascinated  him,  he  could 
not  take  his  eyes  off  her. 

She  tried  to  speak  and  failed,  seemed  on  the  point 
of  fainting.  He  let  down  the  window ;  the  cool  air 
revived  her,  but  she  was  in  a  deplorably  nervous 
condition. 

At  last  the  words  came. 

"I  pulled  the  trigger?"  she  said.  "What  do  you 
mean,  how  can  you  possibly  know  what  happened?" 

"I  said  you  pulled  the  trigger.  It  is  true,  is  it 
not?" 

"No;  Hector  Woodridge  shot  my  husband,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice.  She  was  afraid  of  him;  his 
knowledge  seemed  uncanny — or  was  it  merely 
guesswork  ? 

241 


242  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"That  is  a  lie,"  he  said. 

"How  dare  you  say  that!"  she  said,  her  courage 
momentarily  flashing  out. 

He  smiled. 

"I  thought  this  was  to  be  a  full  confession,"  he 
said. 

"I  will  say  no  more;  you  do  not  bilieve  me," 
she  said. 

"Then  I  will  continue  it,"  he  said,  and  she  seemed 
petrified  with  fright.  He  gave  her  no  chance.  He 
related  the  history  of  the  trial;  so  minute  were  his 
particulars  that  she  wondered  if  he  were  a  man,  or 
a  being  possessed  of  unearthly  knowledge. 

"Hector  Woodridge  was  condemned  to  be 
hanged,  and  you  spoke  no  word  to  save  him.  Your 
evidence  damned  him,  almost  hanged  him,  sent  him 
to  a  living  tomb." 

"I  could  not  lie;  I  had  sworn  to  speak  the  truth," 
she  faltered. 

"You  did  not  speak  the  truth,"  he  almost  shouted ; 
and  she  shrank  back,  cowering  on  her  seat.  She 
wondered  if  he  had  suddenly  gone  mad.  Impos- 
sible.    His  knowledge  was  uncanny. 

"Had  you  spoken  the  truth  you  would  have  saved 
him ;  but  you  dared  not.  Had  you  told  all  he  would 
have  been  set  free,  you  would  have  been  sentenced. 
You  were  too  much  of  a  coward  to  speak,  fearing 
the  consequences;  but  he,  what  did  he  do?     He  re- 


HOW  HECTOR  HAD  REVENGE    243 

mained  silent,  when  he  might  have  saved  himself 
and  proved  you  guilty." 

"It  is  not  true,"  she  murmured  faintly. 

"It  is  true,"  he  said  fiercely.  "Think  what  he 
has  suffered,  think  and  tremble  when  you  imagine 
his  revenge.  I  will  tell  you  something  more.  You 
were  in  Torquay  when  he  escaped.  You  were  at 
supper  one  night;  there  was  a  chink  in  the  blind; 
footsore,  hunted,  his  hands  torn  by  the  hound,  his 
body  all  bruised  and  battered,  hungry,  thirsty,  every 
man's  hand  against  him,  Hector  Woodridge  looked 
through  it,  he  saw  you  feasting  with  your  friends." 

"Stop!"  she  cried  in  an  agonized  voice.  "Stop! 
I  can  bear  no  more.  I  saw  his  face,  I  have  never 
had  a  peaceful  moment  since." 

"I  shall  not  stop,"  he  said  harshly.  "Outside  he 
cursed  you,  prayed  for  justice,  and  another  chance 
in  life." 

"How  do  you  know  all  this?"  she  asked  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  dread. 

"Never  mind  how  I  know ;  sufficient  that  I  know," 
he  said.  "Hector  Woodridge,  thanks  to  an  old 
boatman,  escaped  and  boarded  the  Sea-mew,  his 
brother's  yacht,  lying  in  Torbay." 

Her  agitation  was  painful,  her  face  became  drawn 
and  haggard,  she  looked  an  old  woman.  Rising 
from  her  seat,  she  placed  her  hands  on  his  shoul- 
ders, looking  long  and  searchingly  into  his  face. 


244  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"Sit  down,"  he  said  sternly,  and  she  obeyed. 

"He  was  taken  away  on  the  Sea-meiv.  He  went 
mad,  was  insane  for  some  time,  then  he  fell  dan- 
gerously ill;  when  he  recovered  he  was  so  changed 
that  even  the  servants  at  Haverton,  who  had  known 
him  all  his  life,  failed  to  recognize  him." 

"He  went  to  Haverton?"  she  said. 

"Yes;  he  is  alive  and  well.  No  one  recognizes 
him  as  Hector  Woodridge ;  he  has  assumed  another 
name  and  once  more  taken  a  place  in  the  world.  To 
all  who  knew  him  he  is  dead,  with  two  or  three 
exceptions.  The  prison  authorities  think  he  is  dead ; 
they  have  given  up  the  search  for  him.  He  is  safe, 
able  to  carry  out  his  scheme  of  revenge  against  the 
woman  who  so  cruelly  wronged  him.  You  are  that 
woman,  Lenise  Elroy." 

"And  what  does  he  purpose  doing  with  me  ?"  she 
asked  faintly.     "You  cannot  know  that." 

"I  do;  I  am  his  most  intimate  friend." 

She  started ;  a  weird,  unearthly  look  came  inter 
her  face. 

"His  one  object  in  life  is  to  prove  his  innocence. 
He  cannot  do  that  unless  you  confess,"  he  said. 

"Confess!"  she  laughed  mockingly.  "There  is 
nothing  to  confess." 

"You  know  better,  and  you  will  be  forced  to 
confess  or  else — " 

"What?" 


HOW  HECTOR  HAD  REVENGE    245 

"If  you  do  not  prove  his  innocence  he  will — " 

"Kill  me?" 

"That  may  happen,  under  certain  circumstances, 
but  he  wishes  to  give  you  a  chance." 

"He  has  asked  you  to  speak  to  me?" 

"Yes ;  he  was  at  Doncaster." 

"At  the  races?" 

"He  saw  you  there.  Something  of  the  old  fas- 
cination you  exercise  over  him  came  back,  and  for 
a  moment  he  wavered  in  his  desire  for  revenge." 

He  saw  a  faint  smile  steal  over  her  face. 

"He  told  you  this?" 

"Yes,  and  more;  but  I  have  said  enough." 

"You  have  indeed.  You  have  brought  a  terrible 
indictment  against  me,  Mr.  Rolfe;  if  it  were  true  I 
ought  to  die  of  shame  and  remorse,  but  it  is  not 
true,  not  all  of  it,"  she  said. 

"Lenise,  look  at  me.  Do  you  love  me  after  all 
I  have  said?" 

"I  do.  Nothing  you  can  say  or  do  will  ever  alter 
that." 

"And  you  will  marry  me?"  he  asked.  "It  is  a 
strange  wooing." 

"I  will  be  your  wife.  You  will  save  me  from 
him;  you  will  try  and  persuade  him  I  am  not  de- 
serving of  a  terrible  revenge,"  she  said. 

"Are  you  afraid  of  him — of — Hector  Wood- 
ridge?" 


246  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

She  shuddered. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  am." 

"Supposing  he  were  here,  in  this  carriage  in  my 
place?" 

"I  should  fling  myself  out,"  she  said.  "I  should 
be  afraid  of  him;  it  would  be  terrible,  awful.  I 
could  not  bear  it." 

"Because  you  know  you  have  wronged  him.  Do 
the  right  thing,  Lenise.  Confess,  prove  his  inno- 
cence, think  how  he  has  suffered  for  your  sake,  how 
he  has  kept  silent  all  these  years,"  he  said. 

"Why  do  you  torture  me?  If  he  has  suffered,  so 
have  I.  Do  you  think  the  knowledge  of  his  awful 
position  has  not  made  me  shudder  every  time  I 
thought  of  it?  I  have  pictured  him  there  and 
wished  I  could  obtain  his  release." 

"You  can  prove  his  innocence,"  he  said. 

"Supposing  I  could,  what  then?  What  would 
happen?    I  should  have  to  take  his  place." 

"And  you  dare  not." 

"I  am  a  woman." 

"Then  you  will  not  help  to  prove  his  innocence?" 

"I  cannot." 

Hector  got  up  quickly,  took  her  by  the  wrists  and 
dragged  her  up. 

"Look  at  me,  Lenise.  Look  well.  Do  you  not 
know  me?" 

He  felt  her  trembling;  she  marked  every  feature 


HOW  HECTOR  HAD  REVENGE     247 

of  his  face.  Gradually  it  all  came  back  to  her,  over- 
whelmed her.  She  traced  feature  by  feature — the 
eyes  were  his  eyes,  yes,  the  face  was  his  face.  He 
saw  the  dawn  of  recognition  come  over  her  and 
break  into  full  light.  She  knew  him ;  her  eyes  dilated 
with  terror,  her  cheeks  went  ashen  pale,  her  lips 
were  colorless,  her  limbs  trembled,  she  could  hardly 
stand. 

"Yes,"  he  said.     "It  is  I,  Lenise,  Hector  Wood- 
ridge,  and  you  are  alone  with  me  in  this  carriage." 
"Mercy,  Hector,  mercy,  I  am  only  a  woman." 
"And  you  love  me,  you  said  so,  you  love  Wil- 
liam Rolfe?" 

She  sank  on  her  knees,  she  clasped  his  limbs, 
looking  piteously  into  his  face.  He  saw  how  she 
suffered. 

"Get  up,"  he  said ;  "do  not  kneel  there." 
She  hid  her  face  between  her  arms,  he  heard  her 
sobs,  saw  they  shook  her  frame.  The  train  rattled 
on,  whirling  at  a  great  pace,  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer  to  London.  She  moaned,  it  cut  him  to  the 
heart  to  hear  her.  A  fierce  struggle  went  on  with- 
in him,  a  battle  with  his  strong  will.  He  placed 
in  the  front  rank  the  memory  of  all  he  had  suffered, 
then  brought  up  his  father's  death,  the  cruel  dis- 
grace, as  a  reserve  to  support  it.  He  had  his  enemy 
beaten  at  his  feet,  he  was  victor,  it  was  a  humiliat- 
ing defeat  for  her. 


248  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained." 

Strange  how  the  line  should  come  into  his  mind 
at  this  moment.  He  had  always  been  a  student  of 
Shakespeare,  he  knew  much  of  it  by  heart,  in  prison 
he  repeated  whole  parts,  and  it  solaced  him. 

"Lenise,  get  up." 

His  tone  had  changed,  she  raised  her  tear-stained 
face.     What  she  saw  in  his  look  made  her  cry  out : 

"Hector,  is  it  possible?  Speak  to  me,  Hector!  I 
know  you  now.  Oh,  what  a  fool  I  have  been!  I 
have  always  loved  you,  but  I  was  a  coward.  It  was 
you,  not  William  Rolfe,  I  loved  again  when  we  met. 
You  were  Hector  Woodridge  and  my  soul  went  out 
to  you.  Do  with  me  as  you  will.  I  am  strong  now, 
for  I  believe  you  love  me.  I  will  confess,  make  it 
public,  tell  everything.  You  know  I  did  it.  The 
revolver  was  in  your  hand,  your  finger  on  the  trig- 
ger, I  pulled  your  hand  and  it  went  off.  I  will  make 
it  known  if  only  you  will  forgive  me.  God,  what  a 
fiend  I  have  been  to  let  you  suffer  so!  And  you 
have  kept  silence  all  these  years  for  my  sake !" 

She  spoke  rapidly;  he  knew  she  was  in  earnest 
and  his  heart  softened.  He  had  loved  her  deeply, 
he  loved  her  now,  he  had  always  loved  her,  even 
in  his  bitterest  moments  in  prison,  when  he  had 
framed  a  terrible  revenge.  It  had  been  his  intention 
to  marry  her  in  his  assumed  name,  and  on  their 
wedding  night  tell  her  he  was  Hector  Woodridge 


HOW  HECTOR  HAD  REVENGE     249 

and  then — well  he  shuddered  at  the  mere  thought 
of  how  near  a  brute  he  had  been. 

Hector  was  never  more  of  a  man  than  at  this 
moment.  He  had  won  a  great  victory  over  himself, 
far  greater  than  over  the  woman  at  his  feet.  He 
had  conquered  revenge,  utterly  crushed  it,  cast  it 
out  forever. 

He  stooped  down  and  raised  her  gently. 

The  train  hissed  on,  carrying  its  living  freight, 
drawing  nearer  to  London. 

She  hung  her  head;  he  raised  it,  looked  straight 
into  her  eyes,  then  kissed  her. 

From  that  moment  Lenise  Elroy  was  another 
woman.  She  felt  the  change  instantaneously;  she 
was  transformed,  she  knew  whatever  happened  she 
would  be  true  to  him,  that  she  would  love  him  with 
a  devotion  that  could  not  be  surpassed. 

He  kissed  her  again  as  he  held  her  in  his  arms. 

"This  is  my  revenge,  Lenise,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

AN  ASTONISHING  COMMUNICATION 

AT  Haverton  everything  shaped  well.  Picton 
asked  Rita  to  be  his  wife  and  she  consented. 
They  were  very  happy,  Dick  rejoiced  exceedingly, 
Captain  Ben  was  pleased,  Brack  congratulated  them 
in  his  quaint  way  before  he  returned  to  Torquay. 

"I'll  give  you  The  Rascal  for  a  wedding  present," 
said  Dick.    "I  hope  he'll  win  the  National  for  you." 

"He  will  have  a  good  chance,"  said  Picton.  "It 
is  a  very  welcome  gift." 

"I  think  you  and  Rita  will  be  happy,"  Dick  said. 

"We  shall,  and  when  she  is  mistress  here  there 
will  be  a  delightful  change  for  the  better,"  said  Pic- 
ton. 

"I  hope  there  will  be  no  collision  between  Rita 
and  Mrs.  Yeoman,"  laughed  Dick. 

"No  fear  of  that.  She  is  very  fond  of  Rita;  she 
told  me  so,  said  she  was  very  pleased  I  was  going 
to  marry  her." 

"Then  that's  all  right,"  said  Dick. 
250 


ASTONISHING  COMMUNICATION     251 

He  and  his  sister  remained  a  week  longer,  then 
returned  to  Torwood;  Rita  and  Picton  were  to  be 
married  from  there  early  in  the  New  Year. 

Dr.  Elroy  came  from  Doncaster  for  a  few  days' 
shooting.  Picton  liked  him,  so  did  Captain  Ben. 
The  doctor  was  an  excellent  shot,  and  accounted  for 
many  brace  of  grouse;  he  also  showed  some  knowl- 
edge of  horses,  which  at  once  ensured  Brant's  good 
opinion. 

It  was  during  the  doctor's  stay  Picton  received  a 
letter  from  his  brother,  containing  an  enclosure. 
Both  astonished  him  immensely,  and  small  wonder. 

He  read  them  carefully  twice,  and  decided  that 
Hector's  wishes  should  be  obeyed.  These  were  to 
the  effect  that  Picton  should  read  them  to  Captain 
Ben,  Sir  Robert  Raines,  and  any  other  persons  he 
thought  desirable  should  know  the  truth.  Picton 
decided  Dr.  Elroy  should  join  them  when  he  read 
the  letter.  Sir  Robert  received  a  hasty  summons 
to  Haverton. 

"Wonder  what's  in  the  wind  now,"  he  said. 

"A  trial  I  expect,"  said  his  wife. 

''You  and  Mr.  Woodridge  think  of  nothing  but 
horses." 

"I  have  had  a  communication  I  wish  you  to  hear," 
said  Picton.     "I  have  heard  from  my  brother." 

"Hector!"  exclaimed  Sir  Robert. 

"Yes.     He  is  alive  and  well.     He  knows  you  are 


252  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

to  be  trusted;  he  wished  you  to  hear  all  he  has 
written.  You  will  be  surprised  to  learn  William 
Rolfe  is  Hector." 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  Sir  Robert.  "Do 
you  know,  Picton,  my  boy,  I  thought  he  resembled 
him,  but  of  course  I  had  no  idea  he  was  Hector. 
It's  wonderful;  how  did  he  get  away?" 

Picton  gave  him  an  account  of  Hector's  escape 
and  how  he  boarded  the  Sea-mew,  and  all  that  fol- 
lowed. 

"The  strangest  part  of  the  story  is  better  told 
in  his  own  words,"  said  Picton.  "I  wish  you,  Cap- 
tain Ben,  and  Dr.  Elroy  to  hear  it." 

Sir  Robert  was  lost  in  wonder  at  such  strange 
happenings.  When  they  were  all  seated  in  Picton's 
study  he  asked  them  to  promise  to  keep  everything 
secret,  which  they  readily  did,  when  he  explained 
whom  the  communication  was  from. 

Picton  began  Hector's  letter,  which,  after  a  few 
preliminaries,  read  as  follows:  "You  know  how  I 
escaped,  and  thanks  to  the  good  farmer  on  the 
moor,  and  with  the  aid  of  Brack,  boarded  the  Sea- 
mew  and  got  safely  away.  Then,  taking  the  name 
of  William  Rolfe,  I  came  to  Haverton  and  no  one 
knew  me.  I  wish  it  to  be  thought  that  Hector 
Woodridge  is  dead,  that  I  am  William  Rolfe,  and 
shall  always  remain  so,  for  reasons  which  I  will 
explain,  and  which  will  cause  you  great  astonish- 


ASTONISHING  COMMUNICATION    253 

ment.  Something  wonderful  has  happened  since  I 
left  Haverton,  something  that  surprises  me  even 
now,  and  which  I  can  hardly  understand,  yet  it  is 
an  accomplished  fact,  and  I  shall  never  regret  it. 
"I  met  Lenise  Elroy  at  Doncaster  station  by  ap- 
pointment ;  we  traveled  alone  in  a  reserved  compart- 
ment. You  have  some  idea  of  the  vengeance  I  in- 
tended taking  upon  her,  but  you  have  no  concep- 
tion how  terrible  it  was  to  be.  I  purposed  carrying 
it  out  in  the  train,  declaring  to  her  who  I  was — 
she  thought  I  was  William  Rolfe.  I  gradually  led 
the  conversation  up  to  a  point  when  I  could  relate 
to  her  how  Hector  Woodridge  escaped  and  boarded 
the  Sea-mew,  and  that  he  was  alive  and  well,  living 
under  an  assumed  name.  I  posed  as  his  best  friend. 
She  was  amazed,  and  frightened,  at  the  minute  de- 
tails I  gave  her,  thought  it  uncanny.  There  was  a 
dramatic  moment  when  she  explained  what  hap- 
pened when  Elroy  was  shot,  in  order  to  clear  her- 
self, offer  an  excuse  for  her  conduct.  She  said 
Hector  Woodridge  pointed  the  revolver  at  Elroy 
and  as  he  advanced,  fired.  Then  I  said,  'You 
pulled  the  trigger.'  This,  as  you  may  imagine,  was 
a  knock-down  blow  for  her;  she  almost  fainted. 
She  denied  it,  of  course;  it  was  a  critical  moment. 
Then  I  bade  her  look  in  my  face,  asked  her  if  she 
recognized  me.  Gradually  she  did  so;  she  fell  on 
her  knees,  clasped  my  legs,  sobbed  as  though  her 


254  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

heart  would  break.  She  confessed  all.  She  said 
I  held  the  revolver  pointed  at  Elroy,  but  she  pulled 
my  hand  back,  and  it  went  off,  killing  him.  I  en- 
close a  confession  she  has  signed  to  this  effect.  It 
proves  my  innocence.  I  did  not  actually  fire  the 
shot,  although  I  leveled  the  revolver  at  him,  to 
frighten  and  keep  him  back.  I  had  no  intention  of 
shooting  him;  as  God  is  my  judge,  I  did  not  wish 
to  take  his  life.  She  acted  on  a  sudden  impulse; 
perhaps  she  wished  to  pull  my  hand  down,  think- 
ing I  intended  shooting  him,  and,  as  my  finger  was 
on  the  trigger,  it  went  off.  It  was  all  a  terrible 
blunder,  which  she  and  I  have  suffered  terribly  for. 
You  little  know  how  she  has  suffered;  she  has  told 
me  and  I  believe  her.  What  I  suffered  no  one  can 
imagine,  but  I  believe  I  can  learn  to  forget  it  under 
the  new  conditions  of  life  I  have  mapped  out. 

"As  she  knelt  at  my  feet  sobbing,  a  strange  revul- 
sion of  feeling  swept  over  me.  Before  all  this  hap- 
pened she  acknowledged  she  loved  me  as  William 
Rolfe,  that  she  had  done  so  from  the  first  time  we 
met. 

"I  looked  down  at  her  and  spoke  gently.  She 
noticed  the  changed  tone  in  my  voice  and  raised 
her  head.     'Hector!'  she  cried  in  strange  surprise. 

"Stooping  down  I  raised  her  gently.  I  felt  no 
desire  for  revenge;  all  my  savage  feelings  were 
swept  away.    I  loved  her,  loved  Lenise  Elroy,  who 


ASTONISHING  COMMUNICATION     2^ 

had  so  deeply  wronged  me,  with  an  undying  love, 
'i  knew  I  had  always  loved  her,  even  when  in  pris- 
on, and  my  feelings  were  bitterest  against  her.  She 
saw  something  of  this  in  my  face.  I  kissed  her 
and  held  her  close  to  me.  From  that  moment,  Pic- 
ton,  I  forgave  all,  she  was  very  dear  to  me.  No 
matter  how  she  had  sinned  I  knew  she  had  always 
been  mine.  I  remembered  how  she  surrendered 
herself  to  me;  I  recognized  that  I  had  tempted  her, 
as  she  had  tempted  me;  that  we  were  both  guilty, 
that  had  I  behaved  as  a  man,  and  kept  away  from 
her,  the  tragedy  which  blighted  so  many  lives  would 
not  have  happened. 

"We  sat  side  by  side  and  did  not  speak.  The 
wonder  of  it  all  swept  over  us  and  held  us  silent. 
We  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  read  our 
thoughts.  She  was  transfigured,  a  different  woman, 
a  new  soul  had  entered  her  body,  she  was  not  the 
Lenise  Elroy  of  old  days.  I  felt  all  this;  I  was  cer- 
tain I  could  rely  upon  her.  She  spoke  at  last,  and  said 
she  would  write  a  confession  which  I  could  place 
in  your  hands  to  do  as  you  wished  with ;  she  would 
abide  the  consequences.  I  have  sent  this  to  you, 
Picton,  knowing  you  will  never  make  it  public,  but 
hide  it  in  some  place  until  our  deaths  take  place. 
You  can  read  it  to  our  old  friend  Sir  Robert,  and 
Captain  Ben,  and  any  one  else  you  think  ought  to 


256  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

know,  and  that  you  can  depend  upon  to  keep  silent. 
It  is  short,  but  true,  and  she  has  signed  it. 

"Perhaps  the  strangest  news  of  all  for  you  is 
that  we  are  married,  and  are  now  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Rolfe.  I  wished  it  to  take  place  at  once,  and  she 
was  willing  to  do  anything  I  asked. 

"As  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Rolfe,  we  sail  for 
Melbourne  in  a  fortnight,  where  I  shall  go  up  coun- 
try and  buy  a  small  station  somewhere.  We  intend 
to  keep  out  of  the  world,  to  live  for  ourselves. 
Lenise  wishes  it,  she  says  a  lifelong  devotion  to  me 
will  only  help  to  blot  out  the  past.  Of  her  love  I 
am  certain;  she  is  not  demonstrative,  but  I  catch  her 
sometimes  unawares,  and  her  face  expresses  her 
thoughts.  Forgive  her  as  I  have,  Picton,  write  her 
a  kindly  letter,  tell  her  she  has  done  right,  wish  her 
happiness  in  her  new  life.  We  shall  not  come  to 
Haverton;  it  is  better  not. 

"I  won  a  large  sum  over  Tearaway;  I  had  a 
thousand  pounds  on  her  at  a  hundred  to  three.  I 
do  not  want  any  more  money.  Keep  the  dear  old 
place  up ;  some  day  we  may  see  it,  but  not  for  years 
— it  may  be  never.  I  should  like  to  see  you,  Sir 
Robert,  and  Captain  Ben,  if  you  will  meet  me  in 
town,  just  to  say  farewell.  I  hope  you  will  be  happy 
with  Rita;  I  am  sure  you  will.  At  some  future 
time  you  may  tell  her  the  tramp  she  treated  so  kindly 
m  his  way  to  Torquay  was  your  brother  Hector. 


ASTONISHING  COMMUNICATION    257 

I  have  Dick's  coat  she  gave  me ;  I  shall  always  keep 
it  as  a  treasured  remembrance  of  a  good  woman's 
kindness  and  sympathy.  Remember  always  that 
Hector  Woodridge  is  dead,  that  William  Rolfe 
lives,  and  is  a  settler  in  Australia.  In  that  great 
country  we  shall  be  surrounded  by  new  scenes,  faces, 
and  places;  no  one  will  know  us;  we  shall  live  our 
lives  peacefully  until  the  end. 

"The  storm  is  over,  Picton,  and  calm  come  at 
last.  This  is  how  I  took  my  revenge.  How  strange 
are  the  workings  of  Providence,  how  sure  is  His 
eternal  justice,  how  wonderful  and  mysterious  His 
ordering  of  all  things!" 

Picton  then  read  Lenise's  confession,  which  ex- 
onerated Hector  from  blame.  It  was  brief  and  to 
the  point;  she  did  not  spare  herself. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Picton,  Hector's  a  great  man, 
an  extraordinary  man,  he  deserves  the  highest  praise 
we  can  give  him,"  said  Sir  Robert,  and  with  this 
they  all  agreed. 

"Remember,  Hector  is  dead,  William  Rolfe 
lives,"  said  Picton,  and  again  they  agreed  to  abide 
by  this  decision. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


TEARAWAY  S    PROGENY 


IT  was  a  quiet  wedding  and  Dick  gave  his  sister 
away.  A  few  friends  met  at  Torwood  to  bid 
them  speed  on  their  honeymoon,  which  was  spent  at 
Florence.  On  their  return  they  went  direct  to 
Haverton,  and  Mrs.  Woodridge  settled  down  to  her 
duties  as  mistress  of  the  house,  with  Mrs.  Yeoman 
as  her  trusty  guide. 

Rita  was  supremely  happy;  Picton  told  her  Hec- 
tor's story  when  they  were  in  Florence. 

"So  I  was  right  when  I  thought  I  recognized  Mr. 
Rolfe  as  the  man  who  asked  me  for  help,  or  rather 
whom  I  assisted  on  his  tramp  to  Torquay,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  you  were  right,"  said  Picton.  "You  made 
a  greater  hit  than  you  were  aware  of." 

Picton  schooled  The  Rascal  over  stiff  fences  on 
Haverton  Moor.  A  four-mile  course  had  been 
specially  mapped  out  by  Brant  during  his  absence 
in  Italy,  and  the  fences  were  as  high  as  those  on 
the  National  course. 

258 


TEARAWAY'S  PROGENY  259 

"You'll  find  'em  formidable,"  said  the  trainer, 
"but  if  he's  to  jump  the  National  course  so  much  the 
better." 

Picton  soon  found,  as  he  had  thought  when  he 
won  on  him  at  Torquay,  that  The  Rascal  was  a 
great  fencer.  The  ease  with  which  he  went  over 
the  biggest  jump  without  a  mistake  proved  this,  and 
Brant  grew  enthusiastic  about  his  chance.  Rita  was 
nervous  when  she  saw  Picton  riding  over  these  great 
jumps,  but  The  Rascal  seemed  to  fly  them  so  easily 
she  gained  confidence  and  eventually  became  as  keen 
about  his  winning  the  National  as  Picton  himself. 

Everything  went  well  with  his  preparation;  the 
horse  was  as  sound  as  a  bell,  and  under  Brant's 
tuition  became  quiet  and  docile. 

The  Rascal  liked  Picton,  he  and  his  rider  were 
on  excellent  terms,  they  knew  exactly  how  they  felt 
toward  each  other.  A  week  before  the  Aintree 
meeting  Dick  Langford  came  to  Haverton.  He  was 
surprised  when  he  saw  the  improvement  in  The  Ras- 
cal, grew  enthusiastic  as  he  watched  Picton  ride  him 
over  the  big  fences. 

"I'd  no  idea  he  could  jump  like  that!"  exclaimed 
Dick. 

"J  had  when  I  won  on  him  at  Torquay,"  said 
Picton. 

"Do  you  think  he's  a  chance  in  the  National?" 
Dick  said  to  the  trainer. 


260  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

"He  has,  Mr.  Langford,  a  ripping  chance.  I 
can't  pick  out  anything  to  beat  him,  and  he's  got 
such  a  nice  weight,  only  ten  stone ;  he'll  gallop  them 
all  to  a  standstill.  And  as  for  fencing,  he'll  fly 
Beecher's  Brook  like  a  bird." 

Neither  Rita  nor  Picton,  nor  their  many  friends 
who  saw  the  race,  will  ever  forget  that  memorable 
Grand  National.  What  an  awful  day  it  was!  The 
March  wind  howled  and  whistled  over  the  course, 
biting  and  stinging,  cutting  the  face  almost  like  a 
lash.  Then  sleet  fell,  followed  by  a  whirling  snow- 
storm, which  had  not  abated  when  the  horses  went 
out.  The  course  was  heavy,  dangerously  slippery, 
but  for  all  that  not  bad  going.  It  was  all  against 
the  top  weights. 

The  Rascal  lashed  out  as  he  felt  the  stinging  half- 
f  rozen  particles  whipping  his  skin.  He  put  back  his 
ears,  lowered  his  head,  and  took  a  lot  of  persuad- 
ing before  he  faced  the  blast.  Most  of  the  horses 
protested  in  the  same  way. 

Then  the  sun  gleamed  out,  the  snow  ceased,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  it  was  bright  and  clear. 

They  were  off,  twenty  of  them,  and  a  glorious 
sight  it  was.  Rita  stood  with  Captain  Ben,  Sir 
Robert,  and  Dick.  They  had  an  excellent  view  of 
the  course ;  had  it  been  clearer  they  would  have  seen 
the  whole  race. 

When  the  horses  had  gone  a  little  over  a  mile, 


TEARAWAY'S  PROGENY  261 

snow  fell  again,  the  sun  disappeared  in  the  gloom, 
the  light  became  bad. 

Picton  could  hardly  see  the  jumps,  so  blinding 
was  the  storm;  but  The  Rascal  saw  them  and  de- 
spite slipping,  and  an  occasional  stumble,  cleared 
them.  Once  he  rapped  hard;  this  roused  him  and 
for  the  remainder  of  the  journey  he  did  not  make 
a  mistake. 

It  was  an  extraordinary  race.  Horse  after  horse 
came  down,  until  at  the  last  two  jumps  only  three 
were  left  in.  Another  fell,  then  Mortimer  came 
down  at  the  last  obstacle,  and  The  Rascal  came  in 
alone,  being  the  only  one  to  finish  the  course.  It 
was  a  day  of  triumph  for  Picton  and  his  friends. 
A  big  stake  was  landed,  a  big  double,  the  St.  Leger 
and  the  Grand  National  won  for  the  famous  saffron 
colors. 

The  Rascal  and  Tearaway  were  the  pets  of  the 
Haverton  stable.  The  former  won  at  Manches- 
ter and  Sandown,  Picton  riding  him.  The  filly  won 
the  Great  Metropolitan  and  the  Ascot  Gold  Cup, 
following  this  up  with  a  veritable  triumph  in  the 
Cesarewitch,  carrying  nine  stone.  She  then  retired 
to  the  stud,  and  was  mated  with  her  old  opponent 
Tristram,  to  the  huge  delight  of  Sir  Robert,  who 
prophesied  the  result  would  be  a  remarkable  equine 
prodigy.  The  Rascal  ran  in  the  National  again  and 
fell,  the  only  time  he  came  down  in  a  long  and 


262  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

wonderful  career;  Picton  had  a  nasty  spill  and  was 
brought  back  in  the  ambulance.  This  was  a  shock 
to  Rita ;  she  longed  for  the  time  when  he  would  give 
up  steeplechase  riding,  but  she  never  hinted  at  it, 
she  knew  how  passionately  fond  of  it  he  was.  The 
Rascal  won  the  great  'Chase  again  the  following 
year,  thus  setting  the  seal  on  his  fame  by  carrying 
top  weight  to  victory. 

By  this  time  Picton  and  Rita  had  two  sons;  this 
was  followed  in  due  course  by  two  girls;  so  they 
were  supremely  happy  and  all  went  swimmingly  at 
Haverton.  They  had  troops  of  friends.  Picton 
became  Master  of  the  Haverton  Hounds,  and  his 
popularity  was  unbounded.  Rita  was  regarded  as 
a  ministering  angel  when  she  went  abroad,  scatter- 
ing good  things  around  in  the  depth  of  winter,  and 
all  the  poor  blessed  her  name. 

Brack  retired  from  active  service,  but  had  half  a 
dozen  boats  and  was  a  popular  favorite  at  Torquay. 
Picton  never  forgot  him  at  Christmas,  or  the  farm- 
er on  the  moor,  who  had  helped  Hector  to  escape. 

Carl  Hackler  often  chaffed  Brack  about  the  es- 
caped prisoner  and  said  he  was  not  quite  sure  yet 
whether  he  had  not  smuggled  him  on  board  the 
Sea-mew. 

Brack,  however,  was  as  close  as  an  oyster,  and 
Carl  got  no  satisfaction  in  this  direction. 


TEARA WAY'S  PROGENY  263 

Far  away  across  the  ocean,  in  Australia,  about 
fifty  miles  from  Ballarat  in  Victoria,  Hector  and  his 
wife  settled  down,  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rolfe,  on  a 
small  station  with  a  picturesque  homestead  and  ex- 
cellent paddocks  surrounding.  They  were  happy, 
but  there  was  one  shadow  hanging  over  their  lives 
which  had  not  yet  lifted.  They  could  not  forget; 
it  was  impossible.  They  never  alluded  to  it,  but 
they  knew  it  was  there.  Still,  they  were  contented 
and  made  friends  in  the  new  land.  They  were  pros- 
perous. Hector  took  kindly  to  the  life.  He  worked; 
his  hands  all  liked  him.  He  had  a  fine  herd  of  cat- 
tle, a  hundred  good  horses,  sheep  on  a  large  run 
he  had  just  taken  over,  in  addition  to  Willaura,  his 
homestead. 

Lenise  had  her  share  in  the  stock :  she  owned  a 
few  horses,  a  couple  of  Alderney  cows,  and  a  large 
number  of  poultry  of  various  breeds  with  which  she 
took  prizes,  and  of  which  she  was  very  proud. 
After  ten  years  came  the  crowning  of  her  life.  She 
had  a  son,  and  in  bearing  him  she  almost  lost  her 
life.  Never  till  he  felt  her  slipping  away  from  him 
had  Hector  known  how  much  he  loved  her.  When 
she  recovered,  after  a  long  illness,  she  said  to  him: 

"I  feel  we  are  forgiven.  Our  child  has  lifted 
the  shadow  from  our  lives.  We  must  think  of  the 
past  no  more ;  we  must  live  for  him  and  the  future." 

Picton  received  frequent  letters  from  his  brother, 


264  FAST  AS  THE  WIND 

and  answered  them.  In  one  he  wrote  to  Hector  that 
it  was  evident  he  never  intended  returning  to  Eng- 
land, and  that  the  only  chance  of  seeing  him  again 
was  to  go  out  to  Australia.  "Rita  says  she  would 
like  the  trip,  and  it  would  do  us  both  good.  Cap- 
tain Ben  is  a  trustworthy  friend  to  leave  in  charge 
of  Haverton,  so  don't  be  surprised  if  some  day  we 
arrive  at  Willaura." 

"Do  you  think  she  would  like  me  ?"  Lenise  asked 
her  husband. 

"Yes;  no  one  could  help  liking  you,"  he  replied. 
"Do  you  ever  regret  marrying  me?"  she  asked. 
"That  is  a  foolish  question.    You  know  I  do  not. 
Never  ask  me  again,"  he  said. 

Hector  sometimes  went  to  Melbourne.  On  one 
of  his  visits  he  saw  a  broken-down  man  in  Bourke 
Street  and  recognized  him  as  Fletcher  Denyer.  He 
srave  him  a  wide  berth  and  did  not  mention  it  to 
his  wife.  He  heard  once  or  twice  from  Brack,  who 
in  one  letter  said :  "Brother  Bill  is  a  free  man  again 
— I  reckon  you  know  what  that  means;  the  man 
who  did  it  confessed  on  his  death-bed.  He  looks 
after  my  boats.  He's  a  good  sort,  is  Bill.  Mr. 
Picton  never  forgets  me.  He's  a  good  sort  too.  So 
are  you;  so's  everybody  to  me." 

"Tearaway's  stock  are  doing  wonders,"  wrote 
Picton.  "Her  best  are  by  Tristram,  and  Runaway 
is  a  champion.     I  think  he  will  turn  out  the  best 


TEARAWAY'S  PROGENY  269 

she  has  had,  and  he  is  by  Sir  Robert's  old  favor- 
ite, and  will  probably  be  the  last  he  will  get,  as  he 
is  very  weak  and  ailing  but  hobbles  about  in  his 
paddock.  I  am  sending  you  out  as  a  present  a  six- 
year-old  horse  by  Tristram-Tearaway.  He  should 
make  a  splendid  stallion.  You  can  expect  him 
landed  in  Melbourne  in  about  eight  weeks  from 
now.  We  tried  Runaway  this  morning  and  Brant 
says  he  is  like  his  mother — as  'fast  as  the  wind.'  " 


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How  Leslie  Loved.     By  Anne  Warner. 

Hugh  Wynne,  Free  Quaker.    By  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  M.D 

Husbands  of  Edith,  The.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheoi^ 

I  Conquered.     By  Harold  Titus. 

Illustrious  Prince,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Idols.    By  William  J.  Locke. 

Indifference  of  Juliet,  The.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Inez.    (111.  Ed.)    By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Infelice.    By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

In  Her  Own  Right.     By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Initials  Only.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

In  Another  Girl's  Shoes.    By  Berta  Ruck. 

Inner  Law,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Innocent.     By  Marie  Corelli. 

Insidious  Dr.  Fu-Manchu,  The.     By  Sax  Rohmer. 

In  the  Brooding  Wild.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Intrigues,  The.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Iron  Trail,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Iron  Woman,  The.    By  Margaret  Deland. 

Ishmael.    (111.)    By  Mrs.  Southworth. 


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Island  of  Regeneration,  The.      By   Cyrus  Townsend   Brady. 
Island  of  Surprise,  The.    By  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

Japonette.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Jean  of  the  Lazy  A.     By  B.  M.  Bower. 

Jeanne  of  the  Marshes.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Jennie  Gerhardt.    By  Theodore  Dreiser. 

Joyful  Heatherby.    By  Payne  Erskine. 

Jude  the  Obscure.    By  Thomas  Hardy. 

Judgment  House,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Keeper  of  the  Door,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  Dell. 

Keith  of  the  Border.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Kent  Knowles:  Quahaug.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

King  Spruce.     By  Biolman  Day. 

Kingdom  of  Earth,  The.    By  Anthony  Partridge. 

Knave  of  Diamonds,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  Dell. 

Lady  and  the  Pirate,  The.    By  Emerson  Hough. 

Lady  Merton,  Colonist.     By  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward. 

Landloper,  The.     By  Holman  Day. 

Land  of  Long  Ago,  The.    By  Eliza  Calvert  Hall. 

Last  Try,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Last  Shot,  The.     By  Frederick  N.  Palmer. 

Last  Trail,  The.     By  Zane  Grey. 

Laughing  Cavalier,  The.     By  Baroness  Orczy. 

Law  Breakers,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Lighted  Way,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Lighting  Conductor  Discovers  America,  The.      By  C.  N.  & 

A.  N.   Williamson. 
Lin  McLean.    By  Owen  Wister. 

Little  Brown  Jug  at  Kildare,  The.     By  Meredith  Nicholson. 
Lone  Wolf,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 
Long  Roll,  The.    By  Mary  Johnson. 
Lonesome  Land.     By  B.  M.  Bower. 
Lord  Loveland  Discovers  America.     By   C.   N.  and  A.   M. 

Williamson. 
Lost  Ambassador.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Lost  Prince,  The.    By  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett. 
Lost  Road,  The.    By  Richard  Harding  Davis. 
Love  Under  Fire.     By  Randall  Parrish. 


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Macaria.    (111.  Ed.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Maids  of  Paradise,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Maid  of  the  Forest,  The.    Bv  Randall  Parrish. 

Maid  of  the  Whispering  Hills,  The.     By  Vingie  E.  Roe. 

Making  of  Bobby  Burnit,  The.    By  Randolph  Chester. 

Making  Money.  By  Owen  Johnson. 

Mam*  Linda.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Man  Outside,  The.    By  Wyndham  Martyn. 

Man  Trail,  The.     By  Henry  Oyen. 

Marriage.     By  H.  G.  Wells. 

Marriage  of  Theodora,  The.    By  Mollie  Elliott  Seawell. 

Mary  Moreland.     By  Marie  Van  Vorst. 

Master  Mummer,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Max.    By  Katherine  Cecil  Thurston. 

Maxwell  Mystery,  The.    By  Caroline  Wells. 

Mediator,  The.    By  Roy  Norton. 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock  Holmes.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Mischief  Maker,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Miss  Gibbie  Gault.    By  Kate  Langley  Bosher. 

Miss  Philura's  Wedding  Gown.    By  Florence  Morse  Kingsley. 

Molly  McDonald.  By  Randall  Parrish. 

Money  Master,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Money  Moon.  The.    By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

Motor  Maid,  The.    By  C.  N  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Moth,  The.    By  William  Dana  Orcutt. 

Mountain  GirL  The.    By  Payne  Erskine. 

Mr.  Bingle.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Mr.  Grex  of  Monte  Carlo.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Mr.  Pratt.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Mr.  Pratf  s  Patients.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Mrs.  Balfame.     By  Gertrude  Atherton. 

Mrs.  Red  Pepper.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

My  Demon  Motor  Boat.    By  George  Fitch. 

My  Friend  the  Chauffeur.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

My  Lady  Caprice.    By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

My  Lady  of  Doubt.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

My  Lady  of  the  North,    By  Randall  Parrish. 

My  Lady  of  the  South.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Ne'er-Do-Well,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 
Net,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 


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Mew  Clarion.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 
Night  Riders,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 
Night  Watches.    By  W.  W.  Jacobs. 
Nobody.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Once  Upon  a  Time.    By  Richard  Harding  Davis. 
One  Braver  Thing.    By  Richard  Dehan. 
One  Way  Trail,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 
Otherwise  Phyllis.     By  Meredith  Nicholson. 

Pardners.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Parrott  &  Co.     By  Harold  MacGrath. 

Partners  of  the  Tide.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Passionate  Friends,  The.    By  H.  G.  Wells. 

Patrol  of  the  Sun  Dance  Trail,  The.     By  Ralph  Connor. 

Paul  Anthony,  Christian.    By  Hiram  W.  Hayes. 

Perch  of  the  Devil.     By  Gertrude  Atherton. 

Peter  Ruff.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

People's  Man,  A.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Phillip  Steele.    By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Pidgin  Island.     By  Harold  MacGrath. 

Place  of  Honeymoon,  The.    By  Harold  MacGrath. 

Plunderer,  The.    By  Roy  Norton. 

Pole  Baker.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Pool  of  Flame,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Port  of  Adventure,  The.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Postmaster,  The.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Power  and  the  Glory,  The.    By  Grace  McGowan  Cooke. 

Prairie  Wife,  The.     By  Arthur  Stringer. 

Price  of  Love,  The.    By  Arnold  Bennett. 

Price  of  the  Prairie,  The.    By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 

Prince  of  Sinners.    By  A.  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Princes  Passes,  The.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Princess  Virginia,  The.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  N.  Williamson. 

Promise,  The.     By  J.  B.  Hendryx. 

Purple  Parasol,  The.    By  Geo.  B.  McCutcheon. 

Ranch  at  the  Wolverine,  The.     By  B.  M.  Bower. 
Ranching  for  Sylvia.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 
Real  Man,  The.     By  Francis  Lynde. 
Reason  Why,  The.   By  Elinor  Glyn. 


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Red  Cross  Girl,  The.    By  Richard  Harding  Davis. 

Red  Mist,  The.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Redemption  of  Kenneth  Gait,  The.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Red  Lane,  The.    By  Holman  Day. 

Red  Mouse.  The.    By  Wm.  Hamilton  Osborne. 

Red  Pepper  Burns.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Rejuvenation  of  Aunt  Mary,  The.    By  Anne  Warner. 

Return  of  Tarzan,  The.     By  Edgar  Rice  Burroughs. 

Riddle  of  Night,  The.     By  Thomas  W.   Hanshew. 

Rim  of  the  Desert,  The.    By  Ada  Woodruff  Anderson. 

Rise  of  Roscoe  Paine,  The.    By  J.  C.  Lincoln. 

Road  to  Providence,  The.    By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Robinetta.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 

Rocks  of  Valpre,  The.     By  Ethel  M.  Dell. 

Rogue  by  Compulsion,  A.    By  Victor  Bridges. 

Rose  in  the  Ring,  The.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Rose  of  the  World.     By  Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle. 

Rose  of  Old  Harpeth,  The.     By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Round  the  Corner  in  Gay  Street.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Routledige  Rides  Alone.    By  Will  L.  Comfort. 

St.  Elmo.    (111.  Ed.)    By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 
Salamander,  The.    By  Owen  Johnson. 
Scientific  Sprague.    By  Francis  Lynde. 
Second  Violin,  The.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Secret  of  the  Reef,  The.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 
Secret  History.     By  C.  N.  &  A.  M.  Williamson. 
Self-Raised.     (111.)     By  Mrs.  Southworth. 
Septimus.     By  William  J.  Locke. 
Set  in  Silver.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 
Seven  Darlings,  The.     By  Gouverneur  Morris. 
Shea  of  the  Irish  Brigade.    By  Randall  Parrish. 
Shepherd  of  the  Hills,  The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 
Sheriff  of  Dyke  Hole,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 
Sign  at  Six,  The.     By  Stewart  Edw.  White. 
Silver  Horde,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 
Simon  the  Jester.    By  William  J.  Locke. 
Siren  of  the  Snows,  A.     By  Stanley  Shaw. 
Sir  Richard  Calmady.     By  Lucas  Malet. 
Sixty-First  Second,  The.     By  Owen  Johnson. 
Slim  Princess,  The.     By  George  Ade. 


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Soldier  of  the  Legion,  A-    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Somewhere  in  France.     By  Richard  Harding  Davis. 

Speckled  Bird,  A.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Spirit  in  Prison,  A.    By  Robert  Hichens. 

Spirit  of  the  Border,  The.    By  Zane  Grey. 

Splendid  Chance,  The.     By  Mary  Hastings  Bradley. 

Spoilers,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Spragge's  Canyon.  By  Horace  Annesley  Vachell. 

Still  jim.    By  Honore  Willsie. 

Story  of  Foss  River  Ranch,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Story  of  Marco,  The.     By  Eleanor  H.  Porter. 

Strange  Disappearance,  A.    By  Anna  Katherine  Green. 

Strawberry  Acres.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Streets  of  Ascalon,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Sunshine  Jane.     By  Anne  Warner. 

Susan    Clegg    and    Her    Friend    Mrs.    Lathrop.     By    Anne 

Warner. 
Sword  of  the  Old  Frontier,  A.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Tales  of  Sherlock  Holmes.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Taming  of  Zenas  Henry,  The.     By  Sara  Ware  Bassett. 

Tarzan  of  the  Apes.     By  Edgar  R.  Burroughs. 

Taste  of  Apples,  The.     By  Jennette  Lee. 

Tempting  of  Tavernake,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles.     By  Thomas  Hardy. 

Thankful  Inheritance.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

That  Affair  Next  Door.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

That  Printer  of  Udell's.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Their  Yesterdays.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

The  Side  of  the  Angels.     By  Basil  King. 

Throwback,  The.     By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 

Thurston  of  Orchard  Valley.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

To  M.  L.  G.;  or,  He  Who  Passed.    By  Anon. 

Trail  of  the  Axe,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Trail  of  Yesterday,  The.     By  Chas.  A.  Seltzer. 

Treasure  of  Heaven,  The.    By  Marie  Corelli. 

Truth  Dexter.     By  Sidney  McCall. 

T.  Tembarom.     By  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett. 

Turbulent  Duchess,  The,    By  Percy  J.  Brebner. 


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Twenty-fourth  of  June,  The.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Twins  of  Suffering  Creek,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Culium. 
Two-Gun  Man,  The.     By  Charles  A.  Seltzer. 

Uncle  William.      By  Jeannette  Lee. 

Under  the  Country  Sky.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Unknown  Mr.  Kent,  The.     By  Roy  Norton. 

"Unto  Caesar."     By  Baronett  Orczy. 

Up  From  Slavery.     By  Booker  T.  Washington. 

Valiants  of  Virginia,  The.     By  Hallie  Erminie  Rives. 

Valley  of  Fear,  The.    By  Sir  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Vane   of   the   Timberlands.      By   Harold    B'indloss. 

Vanished  Messenger,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Vashti.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Village  of  Vagabonds,  A.    By  F.  Berkley  Smith 

Visioning,  The.     By  Susan  Glaspell. 

Wall  of  Men,  A.     By  Margaret  H.  McCarter. 

Wallingford  in  His   Prime.      By   George   Randolph   Chester, 

Wanted — A  Chaperon.      By  Paul   Leicester  Ford. 

Wanted — A   Matchmaker.      By   Paul   Leicester   Ford. 

Watchers  of  the  Plains,  The.      By   Ridgwell   Culium. 

Way    Home,   The.      By    Basil    King. 

Way  of  an  Eagle,  The.      By   E.   M.   Dell. 

Way  of  a  Man,  The.      By   Emerson    Plough. 

Way   of  the   Strong,  The.      By   Ridgwell   Culium. 

Way  of  These  Women,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Weavers,    The.       By    Gilbert    Parker. 

West   Wind,   The.      By    Cyrus   T.    Brady. 

When    Wilderness    Was    King.       By    Randolph    Parrish. 

Where   the   Trail   Divides.      By  Will    Lillibridge. 

Where    There's    a   Will.      By    Mary    R.    Rinehart. 

White  Sister,  The.     By  Marion   Crawford. 

White  Waterfall,  The.     By  James  Francis  Dwyer. 

Who    Goes    There?       By    Robert    W.    Chambers. 

Window  at  the  White  Cat,  The.  By  Mary  Roberts  Rine'iart. 

Winning  of  Barbara  Worth,  The.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Winning  the  Wilderness.     By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 

With  Juliet  in  England.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Witness  for  the  Defense,  The.     By  A.  E.  W.  Mason. 


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Woman   in   Question,   The.      By  John    Reed   Scott. 
Woman   Haters,  The.      B"  Joseph   C.   Lincoln. 
Woman  Thou  Gavest  Me,  The.     By  Hall  Caine. 
Woodcarver  of  'Lympus,  The.     By  Mary  E.  Waller. 
Woodfire  in  No.  3,  The.     By  F.  Hopkinson  Smith. 
Wooing  of  Rosamond  Fayre,  The.     By  Berta  Ruck. 

You  Never  Know  Your  Luck.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 
Younger  Set,  The.     By  Robert  W.    Chambers. 


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